


Threefold Knot

by QuickLikeLight



Series: Tightly Wound [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alternate Universe - College/University, Blood Magic, Canon-Typical Violence, Evil Rituals, Future Fic, Knotting, Magic, Mating Bond, Mating Rituals, Minor Character Death, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, Other: See Story Notes, POV Alternating, Pacific Northwest, Polyamory, Soulmates, side pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 09:24:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 41,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4473983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/pseuds/QuickLikeLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the door, a simple plaque read “le refuge des chasseurs.” Allison kissed her fingers and held them up, touching it briefly just like she’d seen Aunt Robin do hundreds of times during summers spent here on the shore.</p><p>“The refuge of...chasers?” Scott stumbled, eyebrows quirked. Allison snorted fondly.</p><p>“Hunters, Scott,” she corrected, herding them both toward the entrance. The key turned easily in the big brass lock, opening the door to their new life. “The refuge of hunters.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FutureMrsWatson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FutureMrsWatson/gifts).



> Many thanks to my usual group for this:  
> Essbee: This story wouldn't exist without you. Simply, it was written because you exist, and because we are friends. I hope you read it after scoring an 8 on your big hard test and kicking everyone's ass. You deserve it, babe.
> 
> Brit, Kate, the Root Cellar, my Tumblr followers, Evith, Roane, and everyone else who has heard me stress and ramble and work on this for months: Thank you for your patience and willingness to participate in the process.
> 
> LC: For brilliant beta'ing, helping me work around problematic scenes, and always having the pom-poms ready, thank you. 
> 
> Many thanks as well to the moderators for running this event. 
> 
> And finally, many, many, effusive thanks to Mary, who created such gorgeous pieces of art for this story. They are beautiful and so are you, darling. 
> 
> This narrative is shaped in a triangle. You begin at the middle point, and work forward and backward each chapter in sequential order. Thus, the "Now" bit of Chapter Two takes place further in the future than the "Now" bit of Chapter One, while the "Then" bit of Chapter Two happens sequentially before the "Then" bit of Chapter One. I believe it should be easy enough to understand, but if you need my assistance please drop me a line and I'll help you out.
> 
> There is an antagonist character death in this story. If you'd like that spoiled, it will be in the end notes.

_Now_

“So, this is it, huh?” Stiles pulled the Jeep up next to the curb, eyeing the seafoam green cottage. Allison could practically see the gears turning in his head, figuring out their surroundings, possible exits and entries, calculating how much mountain ash they might need. _Just in case_.

“This is the place.” Allison nodded toward the little detached garage. “My dad said he left the Suburban in there, and all our other stuff’s inside.”

“Still packed, right?” Stiles’ eyebrows shot up. Allison laughed.

“Yes, still packed. Don’t worry. My dad has no interest in your weird porn.” Scott snorted and Allison cut him a look. “Either of you.”

They stood in the driveway, examining their new home through drooping eyelids. The drive had been long, and they’d only stopped for the night once. Stiles still wouldn’t let anyone else drive the Jeep unless it was an emergency, so Scott and Allison had taken turns keeping him awake through traffic, miles of unbroken highway, and one very memorable, but brief, thunderstorm. Allison’s denim shorts were still damp from where she and Scott and gotten out to put up the soft top. The past three hours of the drive had been sort of dismal. _Then again_ , Allison thought, _Washington was always sort of dismal. Beautiful, but dismal._

“It’s a bit…” Stiles trailed off as he hitched his duffel higher on his shoulder.

“Quirky?” Scott filled in for him.

“That was Aunt Robin all over. It was hers.”

“I thought it was your dad’s?” Scott asked, grabbing Allison’s bag as well as his own. She rolled her eyes but allowed it, digging into the bottom of her tote bag for the shiny silver keychain her dad had given her before she left: an anchor, with three bright, coppery housekeys attached to it. The cottage was squat and square, a single story with bright, fresh paint and blinding white shutters. It had always been peeling when she’d come there in summers before, and Allison sort of missed that roughened, sea-worn edge. It sported a large, breezy covered porch lined with a hanging swing and a few Adirondack chairs with streaks of wood grain showing through. The soft tinkle of chimes competed with the nearby roar of the ocean, and Allison felt both of them in her bones. Airy, roaring, crushing, ringing. It felt homey, but not like home, which was exactly what she wanted.

“It is, now. Or, was. I guess now it’s mine,” she took a deep breath of salt-air. The ocean was so much closer here than it had been in Beacon Hills. It filled her lungs and ears and brain in a comforting deluge. “Ours, now.”

“And, ah…where’s Aunt Robin?” Stiles asked, wincing.

“She died when I was twelve.” His face scrunched up, angry, but Allison quickly added, “It was a car accident. She wasn’t one of us - them. She never hunted.” The tense line of his shoulders eased, and Scott squeezed one gently. She smiled. “She would have liked it, us being here. She always told me we should do our best to get along. To be good to each other, no matter our differences.”

“Even though you didn’t know yet?” Scott’s voice was soft, sweet.

“I think she hoped it would stick. That if she said it often enough, then maybe I’d make the same decision she did.”

Scott’s arm wound around her waist, and Stiles’ around her shoulders.

“You did, Allison,” Scott assured her, all big, earnest eyes and that familiar smile she loved so dearly.

“Well, you know, you took a kind of circuitous route, but-” Stiles huffed as Scott smacked him in the back of the head, but Allison laughed.

“Alright, alright. Let’s get in here. I need a shower.”

“Yeah you do.” Stiles pushed her, playfully, toward the door. He jumped away from Scott’s swiping hand, grinning.

Over the door, a simple plaque read “ _le refuge des chasseurs_.” Allison kissed her fingers and held them up, touching it briefly just like she’d seen Aunt Robin do hundreds of times during summers spent here on the shore.  
  
“The refuge of...chasers?” Scott stumbled, eyebrows quirked. Allison snorted fondly.  
  
“Hunters, Scott,” she corrected, herding them both toward the entrance. The key turned easily in the big brass lock, opening the door to their new life. “The refuge of hunters.”

 

* * *

 

_Then_

“You’ll call, just as soon as you get to Boston?” Allison squeezed Lydia tighter, and the redhead squeaked.

“Don’t worry,” Cora grinned from her place propped up against the Camaro she’d inherited from Derek. “I’m sure she’ll call you every time we stop for a Prada potty break.”

“And you’ll call, too, won’t you?” Lydia looked over Allison’s shoulder toward the Jeep where Stiles and Scott were piling in their overnight bags. “Once you get there.”

“Bellingham is a lot closer than Boston,” Allison laughed. “I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about us.”

“Still,” Lydia met her with eyes full of tears. “You call me. Okay? Call me as - as often as you can. Okay? You just. Call me.”

“Yeah,” Allison agreed, voice breaking a little as she wrapped Lydia up in another tight hug. “Don’t worry. Not ever gonna not need my best friend, Lyds.”

“God, Alli, maybe I should-”

“No, no no, this is an amazing opportunity and you have to go, okay?” Allison looked at Cora, “Tell her, tell her she has to go.”

“We do have to go, actually,” Cora grinned, “if we’re going to miss traffic through the city. And you know what traffic does to your complexion.”

“I told you that in confidence,” Lydia scowled, but it only lasted a moment before Cora was wrapped around her from behind, nuzzling her face into Lydia’s hair.

“Go. Be amazing. Call me when you get there.”

“To Boston or amazing?” Lydia’s lips pursed around the words.

“Boston,” Allison pushed her gently toward the Camaro, and walked backward toward the Jeep. “Amazing’s already happening wherever you are.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

_ _

_Now_

The cottage wasn’t large, but for the three of them it was plenty. For the first week or so, they just moved around in the space, unpacking boxes of belongings, filling shelves with books and toys (“ _They are collectibles, Scott_ ”) and walls with posters. Strange hidden compartments that Allison seemed to find by instinct were filled with weapons, ammunition, mountain ash and wolfsbane stuffed in glass jars to preserve them.

“I thought it was supposed to be safe here,” Scott said, watching as Stiles lined the cabin with ash, leaving a clear break at the doorway.

“Yeah, well, you know,” Stiles shrugged, tilting his head back toward Allison with a worried glance. “No such thing as werewolves, and all that jazz.”

Stiles spent three days just sorting through their electronics, hooking them all up to the same network, and fixing the surround sound. Scott watched, fond, when he got his limbs tangled in messes of wires, and laughed a lot. Allison spent hours rearranging furniture, stocking the pantry, lining things with pretty patterned contact paper that rolled up nearly as soon as it was put down.

“I think I’ll run down to the hardware store this evening, see if I can find some heavier adhesive. The stuff on the back of this shelf liner is terrible, but I know how old that wood is, so there’s no way I’m leaving it unlined.” Allison raked a hand through her hair, bangs falling back immediately into her face. Scott frowned. He knew that look. And he also knew what was -

“No. No way, Alli. You are not skipping movie night,” Stiles said, brooking no argument.

\- coming.

Still, when Stiles caught his eyes Scott nodded, trying to be helpful. Stiles was sprawled in his computer chair, PC running some roleplaying game with soft, familiar music in the background, but he sat up straight when he saw the look on Allison’s face.

“Stiles, there’s so much still to do before the semester starts, and I really need to -”

“You really need to relax, Alli,” Stiles interrupted, pulling her to him by the wrists. Scott watched from the recliner a few feet away, hands clasped on his knees. The tension in the cottage had been strange, a low-level, strung out buzz that hurt his head, made his wolf pace uneasily. “You’ve done nothing but set-up house and clean and turn in paperwork since we got here. You’ve barely been sleeping.” He brushed her hair out of her face, swiping his thumb carefully over the dark circle of skin under one eye.

“He’s right, Allison.” Scott stood and reached for her, settled one hand on her hip. “You kept Stiles up half the night last night.” He didn’t say anything about his own disturbed rest. It didn’t matter; he was so much stronger than both of them, could go days without sleep if he needed to. If they were fine, he was fine. If they weren’t, he needed to fix it.

“I’m sorry,” she cringed, but Stiles shook his head.

“No, no, this isn’t about - please, come on guys, this is not about me. This is about how you,” he looked pointedly into Allison’s eyes, “have been doing that thing where you stay too busy to think, and too tired to sleep. And that’s a problem.”

“I’m sorry,” Allison repeated. “You’re right, you’re right, I just -”

“I know.” Stiles stood and pulled her into him, arms wrapping her up tightly. He rubbed her back as she struggled, always the fighter. Scott joined them, hands finding familiar spots on Stiles’ hip, Allison’s neck. “It’s okay babe. If you need to - you don’t have to but if you need to -”

“Do we need to - ah, you know?” Scott asked, gesturing toward the bedroom. He raised his eyebrows at Stiles, but Stiles looked nearly as lost as he was. Not for the first time, Scott questioned the fact that _Stiles_ was apparently their perfect complement. Couldn’t it have been someone a bit more… well, emotionally aware?

“We don’t -” Allison’s voice caught. “We don’t have to, Scott. You don’t need to, if…”

“It’s fine, Allison,” Scott assured her, taking her hand in his. He smiled to see it, his brown hand wrapped around her pale one, both of theirs smaller than Stiles’. Together, the three of them moved into their shared bedroom, a tangle of hands and shared breath and easy intimacy hard won.

This was the room Allison had settled in first. Their California King took up most of the space, but it was fine. They didn’t need much else anyway. His and Stiles’ clothes fit easily in the chest of drawers Chris had installed at one end of their closet. Allison had her own chest, and basically all of the hanging rods. His and Stiles’ things that wouldn’t fit in the chest hung pressed into a corner, tight together. Scott liked it that way, with all their clothes mingling. It was good, seeing Stiles’ plaid shirts mixed in with his own tees, Allison’s skirts in their shared hamper, everything pressed so close that the smells melded together. Each of them smelled more like one another than their old selves with every day that passed. It was good. Good for the wolf, and good for the bond.

Allison climbed onto the bed, soft green comforter slipping under her knees. Her shoulders shook slightly from the strain of not crying. Scott pushed Stiles onto the bed with her, gently, and crouched down in front of the two of them.

“Allison,” he started, carefully. She took one of his hands, held it like a lifeline. He stroked the skin of her palm with his thumb, feeling the familiar lines and ridges of her life, the scars and calluses that made her human, lover, _Allison_. “I can be your boyfriend right now, or I can be your Alpha if you need me to. Do you need an Alpha?”

“No, no,” she shook her head, voice cracking. Stiles wrapped his arms around her shoulders and leaned his face into her neck. Scott rubbed his free hand up Stiles’ thigh, grateful. When he looked up, the tears that had been threatening to spill from her big brown eyes were falling freely. “Maybe. Maybe I do. Yes. I’m so sorry, it’s just -” Scott cut her off with a swift kiss to the forehead.

“Don’t apologize. You never need to apologize for this. It makes me feel good too.”

Together they worked their way up to the pillows that lined the headboard, a large piece of driftwood, sealed and mounted on the wall. Scott settled in the middle, letting his knees fall apart and his toes touch. Stiles pulled his legs apart, resting his head on Scott’s bent thigh.

“C’mere, Alli, come - come here,” Stiles fussed, pulling at her with grabby hands. Allison giggled through her tears and crawled in next to him, fitting her body to his within the circle of Scott’s legs. Scott placed a hand on her chest, just against the skin peeking out of her v-neck. The other went on the nape of Stiles’ neck, fingers sliding under the collar of his t-shirt. Stiles and Allison joined hands, holding them around Scott’s other thigh, twining the three of them together. For a long moment, they just lay there, quiet and warm and together. And then Scott let out the wolf.

It was always strange, seeing Stiles and Allison like this. They’d been his as long as the wolf could remember, even before they were each others’. His human eyes recognized the fall of Allison’s hair, shorter now than it had been since high school; the pattern of Stiles’ moles, in the same places they’d always been; the soft glow of affection on their faces when they looked at him, or at each other. He recognized lovers, beloved, love. The wolf’s eyes were different though, had always been different. They could see better, further, more.

The pink-tinged glow surrounding Allison and Stiles had been easy to miss the first few times Scott saw it after he became an Alpha. He had brushed it off, ignored the ever-increasing haze of color he saw around them both while shifted, until Derek had seen it as well, and said something.

 

_“You’ve pre-bonded with both of them?” Derek asked, eyebrows furrowed in that helplessly confused way he often had._

_“I don’t -” Scott cut himself off, eyes catching on the fierce red glow surrounding his best friend and his first love. “Is that why they…?”_

_“Shine?”_

_“It’s more like a glow, I think,” Scott put his head in his hands. He fiercely avoided looking at them in the corner of Derek’s loft, where Stiles was teaching Allison the finer points of chess._

_“They would, to you. Glow, I mean. It’s so you can find them easily, in a fight.” Derek threaded his own fingers together, blowing out a harsh breath. “They just look sort of bright to me. And they smell…” He looked uncomfortable. Scott prodded anyway. It wasn’t like Derek being uncomfortable was anything new._

_“What? They smell like what?”_

_“Like yours. It makes them smell… unappealing to the rest of us. Off limits.” Derek cringed. “I don’t… I’ve never heard of there being two Alpha mates at the same time before. I’m not sure how that happened. I couldn’t even -” He stopped, shook his head. “Most wolves don’t find their mate easily. I don’t know how you found two.”_

_“So… you never….?”_

_“No.” He bent his neck, face toward the floor. “I never really had a chance to look. Only Alphas have bondmates.”_

_Scott reached forward and rubbed his neck gently, comfortingly._

_“Do you ever wish-” Scott started, scratching at Derek’s hairline. Derek sat up, holding Scott’s hand to his neck to keep from displacing it._

_“No, never, I don’t,” he said quickly. “I don’t want to be the Alpha. I just… I wish I’d done it better. I have regrets. I wish I’d done something more like -” he looked toward the corner, hesitant smile tinting his face. “Well, like that?”_

_Stiles and Allison had abandoned their chess game, pieces scattered as Allison straddled his waist and held his arms over his head with one hand. The other roamed up and down his sides, tickling ferociously as Stiles squirmed and laughed, trying to get away. Scott let his eyes bleed red, watched as the bright, fierce glow surrounding them melded together, a forcefield of protection and love and_ bond _._

_“You don’t have to be an Alpha to have that, bro,” Scott smiled. “It just happens. Mostly when you’re not looking._

 

Now, even in the full light of day, the two of them glowed with beautiful red light. Scott’s hands felt warm against their skin, in intimate spots that made his wolf contented. He channeled that contentment and comfort, feeling it flood up in his veins, and pushed it out, out, through them and the link they shared. He pushed, breathless, until the lines on Allison’s face smoothed out, the tension in Stiles’ shoulders eased. He smoothed his hands over their bodies, letting them rest gently against marred skin and scars: the shiny silver patch of skin on Allison’s stomach from the Oni’s sword; the line of claw marks across Stiles’ back from the time a witch had fucked with Erica’s brain, made her think Stiles was Isaac’s abusive father.

He rubbed gently over matching X marks on their breastbones, where Peter thought he could take out their hearts, and Scott’s with them. He pushed his love into the skin, letting it sink in, fill the dark spaces, make them bright again.

“It’s good,” she said, breaking his concentration. “Scott, Scott, it’s good. Feels good again.” Scott pulled back, hands shaking slightly as he drew his power back into himself. Stiles flopped over and pulled him down, down, until his head hit the pillows. The two of them wrapped themselves around him, hands twined together on his chest. He grasped Allison’s pale thigh with one hand, thumb stroking the smooth skin absently. The other curled around Stiles’ neck, up into his hair.

“That was impressive, Scotty,” Stiles grinned, rubbing his face against Scott’s shoulder. He ached to take his shirt off, some primal need driving him to feel the soft slide of their skin against his own, but he was so tired. Allison seemed to know, though. Always knew. She slid their joined hands up under his shirt, gliding them over his abdomen and up his chest until the fabric was ruched up under his arms. He sighed and settled, feeling his humanity click back into place.

For a long time they just lay there together, breathing in the same air, watching one another with heavy-lidded eyes. As usual, it was Stiles that broke the peace.

“You gonna tell us what that was about, Alli?” he asked, face resting close to hers on Scott’s shoulder.

“You gonna make me?” she shot back, but she smiled and squeezed his hand.

“Maybe,” Stiles laughed. “I need to know if I should start finding pet stores for Scott to do puppy piles at, if we’re gonna sap all his happy like this on the regular.”

“Hey, man,” Scott whined, jostling him. Stiles held tight, barnacle-like.

“Do not tell me those puppy piles at Deaton’s didn’t help. You’re the worst liar.”

“He’s right,” Allison smiled, a good smile, pretty and warm. “You are the worst liar.”

“Well,” Scott acknowledged. “At least I’m honest about it.”

They laughed, loud and harmonious, and the sound eased any tightness left in his chest.

“It’s just been really hard, being away,” she said once Stiles’ _absolutely masculine_ giggling had trailed off. “Away from Lydia, and my dad, and the - the pack, you know, I can’t - I can’t feel them like you can and it’s hard to be away from them even though -” Stiles pulled his hand out from under Scott’s shirt and rubbed her shoulder with firm strokes, as if he could press the comfort through her skin, into her bones.

“I know,” Scott rumbled, squeezing her tightly to him. “If you want, we can go back. Any time. We can always go back.”

“No,” she said quickly, head popping up. “No. We can’t. We shouldn’t… not until we’re all okay again. And maybe not then. It wouldn’t be fair, to them, or to us.” Neither of them looked at Stiles, but Allison’s fingers tangled gently into his hair alongside Scott’s, rubbing and scratching around his ears. Stiles didn’t move, just waited for them to continue.

“I’ll be okay,” Allison said finally. “I miss them but this… this is safe. And it feels good. This is better. Right?”

Stiles nodded before burrowing his face into Scott’s neck, taking deep, controlled breaths through his nose. Scott followed him, chest rising slowly and easily. His eyes drifted closed, surrounded by the warmth and love emanating from their bodies pressed on top of his.

“This is better.” Stiles’ voice was muffled, but Scott heard it, grinned at the petulant tone Stiles took on when he told them he loved them. Still, Scott agreed. He twined his fingers with Allison’s in Stiles’ hair. Stiles’ hand slipped under her thigh to grasp Scott’s hip. They tied themselves together in the early evening sunlight, drifting off one at a time to the sweet concert of breath.

_This is better._

* * *

 

_Then_

“You’re sure you need to do this?” Derek’s eyebrows were an expressive mess. He stared helplessly at his own hands, as if somehow they could stop Scott leaving.

Behind him, Erica leaned back against Boyd’s broad chest, one hand intertwined with Isaac’s, the other clasped around Boyd’s wrist where it wound across her collar. Danny had his arm wrapped around Isaac’s waist, and Scott wondered for a moment if he was there to say goodbye, or just to make sure Isaac didn’t collapse. The betas looked devastated, sadder than he’d seen them in months, and that was saying something. Erica’s face was drawn, her expression hard like it had been when she’d first been turned, two years before. Boyd stood stoic and unchanging behind her, but he refused to meet Scott’s eyes, gaze glancing off to examine posters on the wall anytime Scott sought him out.

Isaac was the worst, honestly. He and Scott had lived together for over a year, and before Scott had claimed his mates, Isaac had nurtured feelings for Allison and his Alpha both. Even with Danny standing steadfastly beside him, he didn’t try to hide the water welling up in his wide blue eyes. Erica wiped away tears that rolled out over his cheeks with a hot pink bandana she’d fished out of her pocket. Isaac didn’t react, just watched Scott intently, waiting for his goodbye.

He’d known it was coming, but still, it hurt deeply to know he’d be cutting them off, leaving them as half a pack and taking the majority of their strength with him. A pack so far from their Alpha would be in danger, even with the measures they’d taken to keep Beacon Hills safe in their absence. Scott rubbed the back of his neck, self-conscious and full of doubt.

“I’m sorry, bro. I know it’s… it’s not good to be separate from your Alpha and all, but, well…”

“You have to take care of your mates, Scott,” Deaton cut in. “Allison isn’t getting better, and Stiles could actually be getting worse. Your pack is important, but an Alpha that loses his mate-”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott shivered, remembering the rage-fueled night Peter had died. “I can’t let anything happen to them. I have to take them as far from the Nemeton as I can, until they heal.” If they heal, he didn’t add, couldn’t add.

Derek nodded, eyes lingering on Stiles and Allison as they said their goodbyes to Marin and Braeden in the lobby. “We’ll pretend it’s like old times. You care for your pack. I’ll… do my best not to get mine killed.”

“You’re going to be better, man,” Scott assured his second. “You’ll all be fine, okay? And we’re just a day’s drive away. It’ll be okay. Besides, you’ll have Deaton here with you, right Deaton?”

Deaton smiled in that far-off, vague way he had, and nodded. “Though, I very much doubt Derek will be needing the help of an Emissary often now. The cloak over the Nemeton is made of strong stuff, Scott. You’ve done well. Now it’s time to go, take care of yourselves, lick your wounds a bit.  Complete the bond. You’ll be back. The land will call back its Alpha eventually.”

Derek stepped forward and clapped Scott hesitantly on the shoulder, hand gentling right before impact. Scott laughed and wrapped him up in a hug instead. “I’m serious. You’ll be okay. We all will.”

“If you think so, we will be.”


	3. Chapter 3

_Now_

Stiles shoved his hands further into his pockets as he took the steps to the History building. Well, he guessed it was the History building. Did departments get to own buildings? Not own as in _own_ , but like -

“Stiles,” Allison smiled, tugging on his elbow. “Come on, out of your head. We’re going to be late for your first class. Hurry up!” He huffed but followed her, watching as booted feet tripped quickly up the stone stairs.

“We’re twenty minutes early,” he shot back, trying to fight the smile and a dizzying sort of nausea at the same time.

“I am including the time you’re going to need to go splash your face with water and look critically at yourself in the bathroom mirror before you actually get into the classroom. Ten minutes for anxiety-fuelled self-reflection, five to find the room, three to convince yourself to walk into the room, two to find a desk near the back and try not to leave before the professor walks in.” She smiled, hand still tight around his elbow. Stiles grunted in response. Well, she wasn’t wrong.

“Or,” she grinned, pulling him into an alcove, “we could spend twenty minutes another way.”

His breath hitched when he saw the curve of her lips, dimpled cheek indicating much dirtier things than he’d ever imagined before Scott brought them together. Arousal rocked through his body faster than anxiety could, settling hot and familiar in the pit of his stomach as she pressed close, pinned him against the wall with her hips. He let his hands settle just under her ribs, large and encompassing on her waist, shockingly pale against the warm burgundy of her sweater.

“Twenty minutes, huh?” he asked, leaning in to press soft, glancing kisses at the corners of her mouth. “Twenty minutes is not a very long time at all.”

“Long enough for some things,” she teased, pulling him back out into the hallway. Stiles’ forehead screwed up as she tugged on his arm, dragging him toward the door to the ladies’ room on the other side of the corridor.

“No, no way Alli, we are not - the _girls’_ \- Allison, hey!” Stiles struggled, flailing as Allison backed the door open, tugging him along beside her.

“More stalls in here,” she winked, pushing him from behind toward the large stall at the end. “Can’t give a blowjob in a urinal.”

“Well, you probably _could_ \- wait -” Stiles gulped. “Blowjob? In - ah… um. Public?” Allison wiggled her eyebrows at him daringly.

“Scared?” She pulled the stall door closed behind them and latched it with a snap. Stiles’ backpack hit the floor with a thud, and Allison immediately appropriated it to kneel on. He watched as she slid down, booted feet pushing against the dirty tile. Her tights, brown cable knit things that stretched appealingly over her thighs, disappeared under a pretty blue miniskirt covered in tiny flowers. Stiles’ cock twitched at the sight of her there, hair pulled back in a messy bun and eyes bright as she looked up at him. She dragged her hand down the placket of his khakis, playing idly with his zipper. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

Stiles whimpered. “Please don’t.”

She made quick work of his clothes, pulling his cock out with smooth, familiar motions. Her mouth, soft and glossy with coconut lip balm that he knew the taste of as intimately as his own, settled easily over the head of his cock, drawing a groan from his throat. She pulled off with a pop.

“You’ll have to keep it down. If someone hears, they’ll report us. Wouldn’t want to get in trouble on our first day!” She winked, licking a line up his flesh. His knees went watery. He shook as he leaned back against the wall, hands flexing at his sides until she took one of them and rested it on the curve of her jaw. Her mouth was so hot, wet-perfect around him as she slid down his length, cheeks hollowed and eyes dancing.

“So gorgeous,” he breathed, fingers trembling as he rubbed the hinge of her jaw lightly, just caressing the soft skin there. She let his cock slide into her cheek, pushing against his hand, and he grunted with the effort of holding back his orgasm. “God, Alli, _fuck_ , beautiful - _ah_ , feels so good.”

She hummed around him, making Stiles’ breath catch in his lungs. He gasped for air, dizzy on the feel of her. She sank forward, her nose tickling the little thatch of pubic hair at the base of his dick and Stiles shuddered. Her throat was too good, too perfect around the head of his cock, so familiar and blood-hot and tight and wet and _loved,_ he _loved_ her, so much, so much, and -

Allison reached up and slid two fingers into his mouth, plugging up the words that spilled out of it at rapidly increasing volumes. He sucked them, hard, careening into the sense-memory of Scott in his mouth and Allison on his cock, her slicked up fingers pressing against his hole. His spine arced with pleasure, the gut-warm sensation of it sparking over his nerves, down his body like an electric current. His hips shoved forward, burying him deep in her mouth, and he moaned around her fingers, trying to warn her. Allison just stroked his tongue with one spit-slick digit, soothing him as she sucked. His orgasm crashed over him like a tidal wave.

Stiles let his head fall back against the wall and sank to the floor. Allison laughed and helped him tuck himself back into his khakis.

“You alright?” she grinned, rubbing a cool hand over his forehead. He pulled her into his lap and kissed her, tasting himself on her tongue.

“Yeah, great, fine, perfect,” he mumbled, nibbling at her lips.

“That good, huh?” she laughed, leaning back. She checked her watch and ruffled his hair. “Well, Mr. Perfect, it’s time to get you to class.”

Stiles’ stomach almost turned at the thought, but the endorphin rush of orgasm dimmed the sensation. He struggled into a more upright position and whined.

“I need at least five more minutes to recover, Alli.”

“Well that’s too bad, dear,” she grinned, getting to her feet, “because your twenty minutes are almost up. If you hurry, you’ll get a seat in the front row before the Professor calls roll.”

“Fuck!” Stiles scrambled up, grabbing his backpack and heading out of the stall. A young woman opened the door and shot him a filthy look as he left, shamefaced and blushing hard. Still, he thought, looking back to catch Allison’s reddened mouth and dancing eyes, even if he had to sit in the front row for the rest of the semester, that was worth it.

* * *

 

_Then_

“Yeah, yeah, I’m - ah, yeah, I’m sure. I’m sorry. I know it’s… I know it’s really tough to think about, but…” Stiles trailed off, hands wringing in his lap. Malia reached out and stilled them easily with a press of her fingers.

“If you’re sure, you’re sure. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” She nodded definitively and tugged Kira up by the arm. “Now, movies, right?”

Stiles sputtered. “Ah, you don’t want to… um, you know… talk about it?” He cringed. Malia raised her eyebrow at him.

“Did you want to, ‘um, you know, talk about it’?” she mimicked back. “Because Kira and I wanted to go to the movies. If you want to go to the movies, you can come too. If you don’t, you can stay here.”

“Malia,” Stiles grunted, breath whining out of his nostrils. “I am trying to talk to you about something important. Could you please just -”

“Stiles, my dad tried to pull your heart out of your chest and eat it so he could absorb your Alpha-bait essence or something, kill Scott, and probably rule the world. You want to get out of dodge for a while. That’s pretty straightforward. I have no idea what you could possibly need to discuss.”

“We aren’t coming back!”

Stiles’ chest heaved with the effort of spitting out the words. His head spun, wondering if he could get them back, or if now that they’d been said outside the sanctity of Allison’s bedroom, it would suddenly all be real. Malia and Kira stood, stunned, in the middle of his living room. They looked at one another, not him.

“Not coming back?” he heard from the dining room entryway. His dad’s voice was soft, uncertain, and Stiles felt himself crumpling. He sat heavily on an ottoman, letting his head fall into his hands.

“We’re not… the plan is to… we just don’t know if I’ll…” he struggled through every word, unfinished phrases trailing off into ether. Kira sat down on the floor in front of him, gripping his knee with one hand.

“It might not be temporary, is what you’re saying?” Her voice was soft, and it soothed him some, knowing she’d be here with Malia making everything - well, simpler.

Stiles’ father sat down in the overstuffed easy chair, knees bracketing Stiles’ ottoman. Malia joined them, hovering carefully within grabbing distance but not touching. She’d always had a problem with touching when she was upset. Stiles talked to his own hands. It was easier that way.

“The night terrors have gotten worse, and my anxiety is… well, it’s bad. Worse than bad. And Allison’s just so sad all the time, but she can’t talk about it. She doesn’t even seem to know why. There’s this  - distance between us all now. The ritual was interrupted, but there are ramifications to any type of magic, even the unfinished stuff. If we’re not careful, I could hurt someone… or Allison could, either of us. Or we could -” he paused, struggling to catch his breath. “We could - God, I don’t even want to say it -”

“Break the bond before it’s finished,” Kira supplied. “You’re worried about Scott.”

“If the bond breaks it will kill him,” Stiles spit out, teeth gritted. His dad’s hands came up to rest on his shoulders, massaging them through the thick triple layer of his shirts. “As long as we stay here, he’s in danger. I can’t… we can’t let him die. It’s Scott. None of us could but especially -”

“Especially the two of you,” Malia smiled, sad, and nodded.

“Does Scott know that’s why you’re going?” the Sheriff asked, hand squeezing.

“Of course not, no. He thinks it’s about us, about Alli and me.” Stiles snuffled, dragging his flannel-covered arm over his wet eyes and nose. “He just thinks we have to get away from the Nemeton, where all the trauma happened. Like we have PTSD or something.”

“And that...isn’t…what’s happening?” Kira asked, eyebrows high.

Stiles covered his face. His dad was right there, warm and present and comforting behind him, and there was no way this conversation was going to end without saying the thing he absolutely never wanted to say in front of his dad.

“Maybe. But, that isn’t... _it_. There are ramifications for all performed magic, Kira,” Stiles tried to bore the answer into her with the force of his will. Surely a True Alpha’s mate got some of that mojo, right?

“....Okay?”

Apparently not.

“You’ve already said that. That doesn’t actually tell us anything,” Malia grumped. She slid down to the floor, scooting until Kira was framed in the vee of her spread thighs.

“Our bond is… vulnerable to attack… because of… interrupted magic,” he tried again, face burning. He wondered if it was possible for the floor to open up underneath him and swallow him whole. Surely Scott would be better off with one fewer awkward mate.

The room was quiet, thoughts obviously tumbling around in Kira and Malia’s brains. Then, all at once, Malia squeaked, and Kira’s mouth fell open. His father’s hands stilled on his shoulders abruptly before he breathed a deep sigh and asked, “This is some weird werewolf sex thing, isn’t it?”

Stiles contemplated the relative merits of sinkholes.


	4. Chapter 4

_Now_

“I’m bored,” Stiles huffed from the sofa. He was lying on his back with his head hanging over the edge, feet moving restlessly against the wall. He tossed a ball up in the air and caught it, over and over, until the thump of it in his hands made Allison’s jaw clench.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve said that this afternoon, Stiles,” she grumbled, staring dismally at her Algebra homework. It just wasn’t _working_. She did the problems exactly like the book said to, but every time she checked her work they came out all wrong.

“C’mon Alli,” Stiles whined. “You’ve been at it for _hours_. It’s time to take a break. Let’s go make out or something.”

“I don’t want to _make out or something_ , I want to finish my homework so I won’t fail another quiz because unlike you, I decided to take a full load this semester, and if I fail I’ll have to tell my dad and he’ll be -”

“Whoa, dude,” Stiles interrupted, swinging his legs back down so he could sit up. “I know.. I know you didn’t mean it that way but, damn. That was kind of harsh.”

Allison replayed the conversation in her head and grimaced. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean -”

“Yeah, I know.” Stiles got up, face closed off and shoulders drawn up. “I’m gonna go take a nap or something. I’ll see you later.”

“Wait, Stiles -” She reached for his arm, stumbling over the leg of her chair, but he pulled away.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m just tired.” The bedroom door closed with a solid _thunk_ , and Allison wilted. College was tough. Tougher than she’d thought it would be, honestly, but not in the way that high school had been tough, or Beacon Hills had been tough, or life with the pack had been tough. Allison was strong. She was capable. She could handle deranged werewolves, murderous substitutes, even the slow-moving shock of losing most of her family within a few years. Hell, Allison could handle two pouty boyfriends at the same time. She was superwoman.

College, though, was a whole new kind of tough. And Algebra was the worst.

“What’s wrong?” Scott asked first thing when he walked in from his job hunt and found her sprawled unhappily over the sofa.

“What do you smell?” She covered her face with a pillow, trying to stifle her frustrated sounds.

“Um, well… you’re obviously unhappy. I didn’t have to smell that. Stiles smells miserable. Like salt. Did you make him cry? You made him cry, didn’t you?” He didn’t sound angry, just concerned, as he lifted the pillow from her face. “What happened? Did you guys fight?”

Allison sighed gustily, blowing her bangs back from her face. “I was doing my math homework.”

“Ohhhhh,” Scott nodded, sinking down onto the couch with her. “He was being annoying, huh?”

“Not like, super annoying? Just… regular old Stiles annoying. But I said something about how he isn’t taking a full load, and -” Scott winced. “Yeah. I suck. I know. I didn’t mean it that way, it just, you know, came out and he got all huffy and Stilesy and walked off. And shut me out of _our_ bedroom.”

“He’s embarrassed,” Scott nodded, sliding his fingers into her hair. “He knows you didn’t mean to be mean, he just feels really bad about… all that.”

“I tried to apologize, but -”

“Yeah, well… you know Stiles. He’s not always the best at apologies. Giving or receiving. We just need to cheer him back up, that’s all. Help him feel good again.”

“How?” she whined. She should get up, go apologize, make this better. She knew that. But the idea of going into that room and looking at that sad face and trying to tell Stiles why she was frustrated made her cringe. “He doesn’t want to talk to me, I promise.”

“You’re probably right. So don’t talk. It’s early. Let’s go do something fun. He’ll see it for what it is.”

Allison mulled it over for a minute before something came to mind. “Okay. Okay. I’ve got it. Get him in the Jeep. I know what we’re doing.”

 

The Washington coast was littered with small, touristy beach towns. Allison had fond memories of trailing through them as a child, standing on rickety docks and climbing up big rusted statues of sea life, eating taffy from a beachside stand. The one she took her boys to, though, was her absolute favorite.

The little town square wasn’t far off the coast. Old, rundown benches that needed a new coat of whitewash sat in front of a large mural on the side of a beaten down curios museum. A layer of fog lay over the piney woods to the east of town, and everything that wasn’t green was painted in shades of gray.

“So… what are we doing, exactly?” Stiles asked, face placid, closed off.

“Not being bored?” Allison suggested, shrugging her shoulders. He shrugged back, but a little smile hovered at the edges of his lips. Not quite there, but almost.

The museum was a large, old brick building with a statue of a bull on top of it. Big block letters read “Marshall’s Field and Sea Museum” and then, in smaller print, “Curios, Shells, Souvenirs,” all in a bold, eye-searing yellow.

“What is _curios_?” Scott asked, rolling the _R_ sound. Stiles huffed a laugh.

“Are. What _are_ curios?” He hesitated, looking to Allison before continuing. “They’re like… just, little objects that people might find interesting. Junk, mostly. Almost always. Curios are just junk that’s been given a funny name.”

“Curios make you curious,” Allison nodded, pushing Scott toward the door of the museum. The little shop front was mostly empty of people, but full of kitschy delights that Allison half-remembered from coming here years before with Robin. Bins full of seashells lined one wall, the hard stone of the shells softened after years of hands sweeping over them. Stiles tried on a tall purple tophat, pulling a face at Scott that made them both double over with laughter. Scott found a stick horse with a large buffalo head and decided to gallop it around the shelves of stuffed toys and collectible statuettes. When Allison giggled, loud and abrupt, he spun so quickly that he thwacked Stiles in the back of the thighs with the end of the stick, pulling a strangled yelp from that laughing mouth.

Scott’s eyebrows shot up as he sniffed the air, pointedly, and the flush on Stiles’ face left nothing to the imagination.

“Yeah, ah, we will be discussing that later,” Scott grinned, sliding a hand down to rub Stiles’ legs, half comfort, half tease. Allison covered her face with one hand, trying to hide the pleased smile and mounting blush, but it was no good.

“I see you, Alli,” Stiles said, rubbing one hand over his ass and wincing. “Watch it, or I’ll have him go spank you too.”

“Hey, who’s the Alpha here?” Scott grumbled, knocking the stick horse over one shoulder. Stiles and Allison both grinned.

“Allison, definitely.”

“Yeah, it’s totally me,” she agreed, waggling her eyebrows. Scott sighed.

“It’s totally you.”

The tension in Stiles’ shoulders eased, and he took her hand as they walked around the museum, twining his fingers with hers. She rested her head on his shoulder, nuzzling against it to cover his soft plaid in her scent.

“Don’t think I don’t know what this is,” he laughed, squeezing her hand.

“I’m sorry.” She snuggled in closer. “I didn’t mean it. I got upset and I -”

“You were busy and stressed and you said something you shouldn’t have. I get that.” He frowned and stopped in front of a funny mirror that made their heads look twice their normal size. “It’s true though. You and Scott are both taking a full load. He’s looking for a job, too, and don’t think I haven’t seen the flyer for the archery team on your desk, because I have. I just -”

“What, babe?” she looked at his distorted reflection, turning her head this way and that to watch as it rippled and changed with every quirk of his expressive face.

“I was so busy for so long. And I don’t really have anything extra now. I don’t even have, like, the bare minimum. Two college classes, an allowance from _your_ dad -”

“It’s not an allowance, Stiles, it’s -”

“It’s _so_ an allowance, and of course I appreciate it, and Scott does too. We do. But it sort of feels like… I don’t know. Like I’m treading water.”

“Like you’re stagnant?” Allison tried not to frown but she felt it happening anyway. “We just moved. You just started college. It’s okay for stuff to be slow for a while.”

“No, no, it is, I know. It just… I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, that’s all.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Allison saw Scott stiffen several aisles away. She threw her arms around Stiles’ neck and pulled him close, burying his face in her shoulder.

“If it drops, we’ll catch you. You know we will. And if you’re bored, or you need some time to explore, or you want to go try something new, we’ll be here to support you. Both of us. And if you want to just rest for a while, we can do that too. You know that.”

“Why’re you so good to me?” Stiles mumbled into her skin, hot breath skating over her neck. Allison giggled.  

“Because you’re so good to us. For us. We love you. You have a great butt. Take your pick.”

“It’s totally my butt.” Stiles wriggled, laughing. Scott meandered over, completely and utterly inconspicuously, and slid his hand into Stiles’ back pocket, giving said rear end a squeeze.

“I can say with the utmost certainty that it’s your butt.”

Stiles laughed and pressed back into Scott’s hand, settling himself between the two of them with a happy sigh.

“Are we okay now?” Allison asked. “Or do I need to continue to push curios at you until you are too curious to be upset?”

“I guess we’re okay.” Stiles wrinkled his nose and pressed it to hers, just a quick bump. “Don’t let it happen again, unless you have another cutesy beach town to take me to.”

“Sweetie, there are tons of these towns. I could piss you off every day and not see all of them.”

Scott’s eyes went wide. “Let’s not try that though, okay?” Stiles slipped out of their arms and started heading back toward the funny hat area.

“Guys, do you think -” He stopped abruptly, looking out the big plate glass in the front. “Allie. Allison Argent. Does that sign say ‘Arcade?’”

“Last I saw it might,” Allison hummed, shooting Scott a grin.

“Nevermind. You can upset me whenever you like. I don’t ever want to leave this place.”

 

* * *

 

_Then_

“You remember Aunt Robin’s beach house?” Chris said, apropos of absolutely nothing.

“The one in Washington? Sure.” Allison nodded around her mouthful of fettuccine, eyebrows quirked at her father in question. “What about it?”

“Well,” he twiddled his noodles around his fork. “I’ve just… been thinking a lot lately. About the house, and, ah… other things.”

“What sort of things?” She sat back in her chair, pushing away from the table. “Hunter sorts of things? Because you know I can’t -”

“No,” he interrupted. “I wouldn’t ask you to - I couldn’t. Not now. I couldn’t let you, and I couldn’t do it myself. This family has spilled enough blood.”

“So why are you talking about Aunt Robin all of the sudden? You didn’t even like her.”

“I loved your Aunt Robin. She didn’t particularly care for _me_. Any of us, actually.” Chris forced a smile, but it strained at the edges in ways Allison was becoming intimately familiar with. Got the uncomfortable lip curve from her dad, she guessed.

_Mom was never one for smiling._

“Why didn’t she like you?” she asked, trying to pull her head back from that sad, strange direction.

“She didn’t like hunting. Found it cruel, inhumane. Said we should build relationships with the packs, let them mete out their own justice. Help them.”

“Sounds like Robin,” Allison nodded. “She used to tell me all the time ‘Be good to each other’-”

“‘- no matter your differences,” he finished, a sad smile on his face. “She was special. She wanted to make a difference. There weren’t many wolves left in Washington. It’s a pretty good area for them, actually, but hunters realized that pretty quickly. There was an especially aggressive clan that wiped almost all of the northwest packs out. Just… killed them, indiscriminately. It wasn’t -” he stopped, pursing his lips for a moment before he continued. “They didn’t follow a code. They were just killers. By the time they finished, there were only a handful of omegas left that hadn’t died or been driven out.”

Allison’s gut twisted at the idea of someone coming to her home, doing that to her pack. The thought of someone hurting the betas made her stomach sick, and Scott -

Well, no one would be hurting Scott. Not while she was breathing.

“Are they still there? The hunters?”

“No. They moved on. Met their justice elsewhere, for the most part. Hunters like that don’t hunt long. There are much more dangerous things in the world than wolves.”

“So Washington is hunter free. Why don’t the wolves just move back?”

“The land hurts. Like this one did, before Scott.” Chris rubbed his temples. “Robin tried to help. And she did - she did help, a lot actually. She built a legacy there. Silver that saved instead of burned, she used to say.”

“What did she do?”

“It might be easier if I showed you.” Chris led her into the living room where an old, beat up box sat on the coffee table. He pulled a photo album from inside of it, faded and worn with yellowing pages. “Dad didn’t really store these the way he should have. He wouldn’t - wouldn’t forgive her, for not being, well, Kate. Or me.”

The album was heavy in her hands, but felt delicate anyway, like it could float apart any minute. She turned the pages with care, flipping past scenic shots of the beach and Robin’s little cottage. Mixed into the pages were little notes, scraps of napkins and notebook paper tucked into photo pockets, faded Polaroid snapshots of her Aunt Robin smiling with various men and women, never the same face twice.

They all kept their eyes closed. Even Robin.

“Wait, was she -?”

“No, she didn’t take the bite.” Chris ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it. It reminded her so much of when she was younger, of seeing him rake a hand through his hair as her mother sat nearby, deftly chopping vegetables or baking or filing her nails to neat, clean ovals, that it made her breath catch in her chest. “She closed her eyes out of solidarity. Said it showed them that to her, they were equals. Not monsters.”

Allison pulled a folded napkin out of one of the photo sleeves, yellowed with age. The ink was faded, the writing chickenscratched, but she could still make out most of the words:

_Ladybird,_

_We enjoyed our stay in your lovely home. You’ve made us feel secure for the first time in many cycles of the moon. Should you ever need us, the Valdez pack will be at your service._

_Paolo_

“Who was this?”

“No one,” Chris shook his head. “Or, well, one of many, I guess. Your Aunt Robin let a lot of wolves through her door before the accident. This guy, Valdez? He could have been any of them, really.”

“So she just… what? Gave them a place to stay?”

“And food. Medicine, if they needed it. Access to an Emissary, if they didn’t have one.”

“So she was just… what… a sort of… werewolf shelter?”

“More like a werewolf wayhouse,” Chris grinned. “It was her way of undoing some of the evil our family has done. That Kate and I have done. And I think…” he paused, reaching into his pocket, and pulled out a silver keychain in the shape of an arrow. Attached to it was a shiny brass housekey. “I think it’s time for someone to start that up again, maybe.”

“Wait, you’re moving to Washington?” Allison asked, brow furrowing. Chris laughed and pushed the key ring into her hands.

“No. But I think you might be.”  

 


	5. Chapter 5

_Now_

Scott trudged through the light mist, jacket pulled tightly around his body. His phone slid against the damp skin of his face, making it tough to hear his mother’s voice through the tiny speaker.

“Sorry, mom, could you repeat that?” He squinted through the drizzle in the direction of the animal shelter. He’d intended to go apply for a job there, but the storefront looked dark and empty. He kicked at the water pooling on the sidewalk, and immediately regretted it as it took up residence in the toe of his shoe.

“I was telling you that _Abuela_ _Delgado_ told me yesterday that Mariela is working for the hospital there in town. She just finished her nursing program last year.”

“Mariela?” Scott asked, trying to decide whether or not it was worthwhile to walk through the small river forming at the curb in order to cross the street.

“Yes, Mariela. Mariela Delgado?” she asked, then groaned. “ _Su prima, cariño_.”

“Ah! Sorry, _mamá_.” Scott wiped rain out of his eyes and turned toward a little corner coffee shop. The smell of warm vanilla, coffee grounds and cinnamon flooded his senses as he stepped inside, a bit overwhelming to his sensitive nose. He sneezed.

“Are you catching a cold, _mijo_?”

“I can’t catch colds, mom.” Scott counted out quarters from his pocket. _Just enough_. He needed to remind Stiles that the quarters in his pockets were not community property. Sort of. Unless Stiles _really_ needed them. “Text me Mari’s number? I’ll try to meet up with her soon. Hopefully after I find a job and start getting paid.”

“Scott, you know that if you need money I can -”

“No, _mamá_.” Scott shook his head even though she couldn’t see him. “We’re fine. Chris sends Allison enough money every month to feed all three of us twice. I promise. I just want…”

“Freedom,” she supplied. Scott smiled and clutched the phone tighter to his ear. The biweekly phone calls he had planned when he left home had rapidly become an almost-daily habit, and hearing his mother’s voice as she filled in his blanks warmed him despite the chill of the rain.

“You know. I don’t like owing him. And I know I don’t, really, but it… still feels like I do. I don’t want to.” He shuffled toward an empty table and heaved his backpack into the spare chair.

“I’ll have Mariela call you. Maybe she can help you find something! She has friends up there.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Scott tried to sound hopeful.

“Oh, _mijo_.” He had failed, apparently. “You’ll find something soon. Chin up.”

“Always, _mamá_.”

“I have to get back to work.” He could hear her sad smile through the phone as she asked, “You sure you’re okay up there? Don’t need me to come, I don’t know, make soup? Show you how to work the dryer? Anything?”

“Mom!” Scott laughed. “Stiles makes your enchilada soup almost as well as you. And I’ve been doing laundry since I was nine. I think we’re good.”

“Hey, you never know!”

Scott quietly slipped in at the end of the short line, jangling the change in his pocket. “Miss you too, mom. I love you.”

“I love you. Stay out of trouble. Keep _Stiles_ out of trouble. Tell Allison I said good luck.”

“ _Mamá_!”

“Bye, _mijo_. Take care!”

“Bye,” Scott grumbled.

Staying out of trouble didn’t seem like a huge ordeal, Scott thought, as he stepped out of the coffee shop with his steaming cup of coffee. The vanilla and espresso scent was softer outside, more comforting and warm. It reminded him of mornings when Allison would wake them up with cups of vanilla flavored coffee, spoiled with too much cream, and toast spread with honey, grinning about breakfast in bed. The drizzle was starting to slacken off, leaving everything damp but somehow greener, brighter than he’d noticed before, and the wet concrete smell wasn’t all that different from home. He checked across the street again, looking toward the animal shelter, and spotted the “Open” sign flashing. He smiled to himself as he checked both ways and stepped out into the street -

Out, into a much deeper puddle than he expected, sending him stumbling to his knees on the wet concrete. His coffee spilled down his shirt, scorching him through the fabric, and the backpack he had slung over one shoulder slipped down into the water, splashing muck into his face. Water ran quick and cold through his tennis shoes, soaking his socks almost instantly. Scott groaned.

Perhaps his mother was right to be concerned after all.

-x-

A week later, Scott stood at the entryway to the PeaceHealth medical center ER, hands twisting nervously in the hem of his button down. The girl behind the desk looked no older than him, maybe even younger, but she smiled knowingly when he gathered himself to approach, like maybe she’d been watching him waffle for the last ten minutes.

“Mariela’s _primo_ , yeah?” she asked, accented Spanish putting him at ease more quickly than her smirky smile or the conspiratorial look in her dark eyes.

“How’d you know?” he countered, trying to keep his voice steady. It only cracked a little.

“She told me to be on the look out for a baby face,” the girl shrugged. “She’s finishing up rounds, should be back within five. I’m Verona.”

“Uh, Scott. She told me you guys might be looking for ER techs?” Scott scuffed a boot against the pristine white tile floor and flinched when it squeaked. Verona laughed.

“If Mariela says we are, we probably are. I’m pretty sure they just give her the keys to everything and tell her to run this mess as well as she can.”

Scott nodded, remembering the way she’d sounded harried and forceful on the phone, quick-talking and aggressive like she’d always been. “I don’t want to bother her if she’s busy. I could come back later if -”

“Scotty!” a high-pitched squeal echoed down the hallway, and Scott turned just in time to get an armful of Mariela, dressed in blindingly bright yellow scrubs. She smacked a kiss on his cheek and ruffled his hair, a habit leftover from childhood when they’d meet at _Abuela_ Delgado’s house for Sunday dinner and spend hours playing in the yard before Melissa told them both to wash up with the hose outside. “You made it!”

“Well, you know, you said you needed a hand so, uh…” Scott produced his hands, holding them open in the air between them. “I’ve got two.”

“Dork,” Mariela laughed, affectionate, and smacked his hands away. “You have the paperwork?”

“Uh, yeah, I just need a background check I think, and fingerprinting?”

“Verona can get that set up for you next week, can’t you _nena_?” Mariela grinned toward the counter and Verona rolled her eyes.

“Of course, your highness. Anything else you need from your lowly servant?”

Mariela pretended to consider it. “Two coffees, one with extra milk for _mi primo_ here, and a million bucks so I can quit this job and live the life of lazy luxury I deserve.”

“Coming right up, boss,” Verona smiled. She turned toward Scott. “Guess we’ll be seeing you around here pretty regularly then, huh?”

“Um,” Scott faltered, checking with Mariela before nodding. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, if I got the job, that is.”

“Oh, you got it, sucker,” Mariela laughed. “Whether you want it or not, it’s all yours.”

* * *

 

_Then_

“I don’t think we can stay here.”

The words felt hollow on his tongue, in his mouth. It wasn’t even a surprise, apparently, because there was no shock painted over his mother’s face, and Deaton’s reaction was restrained to a single nod of the head. Still, his voice shook as he continued, and his hands curled into the tail of his shirt.

“Stiles and Allison aren’t well, and it’s making… well. It’s making me…”

“Aggressive?” Deaton asked, cool and collected as always. Scott winced.

“I growled at Isaac. Actually growled. Like a _dog_.”

“Oh, honey…” Melissa clucked, but Deaton just nodded, as if that was to be expected. Scott felt the wolf rising up in his throat again, ready to gnash his teeth and claw his way back to Stiles and Allison. It was always there, hovering just under the surface, this readiness to claim and defend keeping him on edge.

“I haven’t felt like this since…”

“Since your first full moon,” Deaton smiled, and the memory of that clanged loud in his head: wrapped in Lydia’s arms, then Stiles’ handcuffs, all the time raging against the wolf’s hold. “It’s not uncommon, especially when you consider the effects of the mate bond magic -”

“And that’s enough of that,” Melissa interrupted with a grimace. “Your wolfy senses are messed up. It’s made you more aggressive and, uh, wolfy. Than normal. Is that about right?”

“Yeah,” Scott shrugged, rubbing the nape of his neck with one hand. “It’s hard to be away from Stiles and Allison for longer than a few hours. I wake up in a cold sweat every time we go to sleep in separate beds -”

“And don’t think I haven’t noticed,” Melissa shook her head, and then waved at him to continue. Scott felt himself flush, happy at least that Stiles and Allison were safe in Derek’s loft for the time being.

“I’m just saying maybe we need a change of pace. The Nemeton’s dormant. Derek and Braeden can keep an eye on things here while we’re gone. Maybe we could just… I dunno, go to college a couple hours away or something. Stiles would like that. He’s always wanted to head south, check out San Diego or something -”

“I think you should go further.” Deaton’s face was passive as ever, but something in his voice stopped Scott short.

“How much further?”

Deaton paused, and for the first time Scott saw his own sadness, powerlessness reflected back at him in his mentor’s eyes.

“I’m not sure, Scott. As far as you can.”  

 


	6. Chapter 6

_Now_

Stiles stamped his feet, trying to get the rainwater off as he shuffled into the little bookstore. A “Help Wanted” sign hung crookedly in the window, and there was a thick layer of dust on the edges of several of the shelves, giving the entire place a musty, dim feeling despite the lights overhead.

“Hello? Anybody here?” He squinted into the stacks, but no one was forthcoming. _Help wanted_ , indeed. Stiles dragged his hand along the dusty top of the cashier counter, making himself sneeze three times in rapid succession.

Surely someone was there, deep in the stacks putting away books or cleaning the employee restroom or something. A faint, familiar smell caught Stiles’ nose, turning him toward an innocuous looking shelf on the left. He scanned the titles -- it was some boring plant-related stuff, growing seasons and native perennials --

A flash of bright violet caught his eye at the end of the shelf, tucked inside one of the books on the top row. _Wolfsbane_? He stood on his tip toes, trying to reach the books at the top which seemed much further away than they looked. His fingertips grazed the bottom of the book, pushing it just slightly off balance and sending a stack of others careening forward much harder than expected. Stiles jumped back, covering his head as books rained down from the upper shelves in a tumult.

“Is someone there?” a voice, deep and sort of sleepy, came from the other side of the shelf. A tall, heavy guy with dark hair and soft eyes and skin almost as pale as his own came around the corner, lugging a step-stool and a clipboard. “Sorry man, didn’t hear ya. You okay? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Stiles bristled a bit but tried to rein it in with a huffy, “I did. You didn’t hear me.”

“Well. Be louder next time,” the guy said before herding Stiles easily out of the aisle, and away from the wolfsbane book. He folded himself down onto a stool behind the counter and clipped on a name tag that read _Sean Light_ in big block letters, drawn with permanent marker. Stiles stood awkwardly to the side, waiting as Sean settled in, set his clipboard down, and rested his weight against his forearms on the dusty countertop. “So. Uh. Were you looking for something specific?”

“Yeah,” Stiles pointed toward the sign on the door, “a job.”

It was like the breath of life into Sean’s hulking body. He snatched a packet of papers out from under the counter - an application - and shoved a pen in Stiles’ direction.

“Oh thank fuck, I am so tired of picking up shifts every day of the week. If you fill it out right here, I can go ahead and fax it to my dad and do the interview all at the same time. You know. If you - uh. Want.”

Sean’s brain caught up with his mouth, a sensation Stiles had felt more times than he could count but wasn’t sure he’d ever actually seen on anyone else.

He couldn’t help but laugh. No wonder Allison and Scott were always sharing that secret smile around him. “So, it’s that bad, huh?”

“Nah…” Sean trailed off, dusting his hands nervously on his large thighs. “I just. Not really a books guy, you know? More of a… games guy. Sort of. I guess.”

“Hey, you don’t have to justify yourself to me,” Stiles shrugged, holding his hands up. He picked up the pen, shoving the cap between his teeth unthinkingly. The letters flowed smoothly, blue ink over stark white paper, the color of wolfsbane smoke in a fog. Stiles cleared his throat and asked, “So. What, uh… what kinds of games?”

 

Working at a bookstore was nothing like Stiles thought it would be. For starters, most of the books in the inventory were things nobody would ever read. Sean’s dad didn’t seem to care that no one walked into the shop, as long as someone was manning the counter from nine in the morning until nine at night. Most days Stiles just wandered the shelves, picking up random titles he thought looked strange or interesting and trying to figure out the pattern. Why books about marine life and novels from the 1980s and an entire section dedicated to French cookbooks?

Stiles had started looking for a method to the madness as soon as he started working, but without a key there was no way to crack the code of Mr. Light’s buying choices.

And no matter how hard Stiles looked, he could never find the Wolfsbane book again.

On his third Tuesday open shift, the sound of the bell tinkling softly at the front of the store roused him from a fascinating game of Hardback Dominos, which was played exactly like it sounded.

“Yo, I’m Stiles, what can I do for you?” he asked, half-falling toward the counter.

“Stiles?” the young woman in front of him arched one perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Stiles. How common a name could that even be?”

“In my experience? Ha. Um. Not at all. Why?” he asked, trying to remember if he’d seen her face before - well, ever.

“You happen to know Scott McCall?” she asked sharply. Stiles’ jaw dropped open.

“Seriously? Yeah, of course I know Scott. He’s my -” He stopped, suddenly unsure of what to call them. “The fated Alpha of ⅓ of my heart” seemed a little odd.

“Boyfriend?” she asked, misreading his hesitance and flashing him a comforting smile. It transformed her face from sharp to familiar, sweet. “It’s alright, Scott and I work together. He’s told me all about you guys. All three of you.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, a little dumb. “Cool. Um. Yeah, that’s great. And you are…?”

“Verona,” she said, holding her hand out to shake. He took it, unsurprised at her fierce grip. “Verona Valdez. Sean usually opens on Tuesdays doesn’t he?”

“Uh, he did I think, before I started working a couple of weeks back. He closes most nights now, so I open. Did you need to talk to him?”

“Nah,” she said, pulling a large padded envelope out of her satchel. “Just leave this under the counter for him? Don’t open it or crush it please; there are vitamins in there from my dad’s health food store. They aren’t in a plastic bottle, so they’re very delicate.”

“Of course,” Stiles nodded, taking the envelope with care and putting it under the counter where Sean normally left his nametag. “Do you want to write a note for him or -?”

“He’s expecting those,” she said simply, waving him off. “Just remind him, would you, that the leftovers need to be refrigerated? He always forgets and wants me to bring him more before the month is up.”

“Leftovers in the fridge. Got it.” He saluted her with far less sarcasm than he was comfortable with as she scooted out the door, promising she’d see him again some time. He didn’t open the envelope, half afraid she’d know just by looking at him next time he saw her, more afraid Sean would tell her and she’d tell Scott, but he did examine every inch of it like a clue on his old board at home. It was simple yellow cardstock, padded inside with bubble wrap and sealed with both the normal adhesive and a long strip of red wax. On the front, stamped in small font read:

_Valdez Valley Vitamins_

_We feel better together._

Stiles chewed half his bottom lip off trying to figure out the mystery before he remembered that he wasn’t in Beacon Hills anymore. Sometimes an envelope was just an envelope, inventory was just inventory, and a familiar name was nothing to get out the red string for. He went back to his dominos and tried not to feel either grateful or disappointed about it.

* * *

 

_Then_

“I can’t do it.”

“Come on, Stiles,” Scott prodded, trying to get him to uncover his head. “I know it doesn’t feel good but we have to leave the house.”

“See, you say that, but I really don’t think it’s necessary. We’ve survived this long without leaving! What’s another fifty years?”

“Stiles.” Scott sounded genuinely aggravated this time, not his usual affable self. “Are you going to make me do this alone?”

“Ugh,” Stiles dragged the blankets off of his head. “Of course not. What a low blow.”

“I’ll blow you low later,” Scott winked, barely breaking his stride as he grabbed Stiles’ plaid off the back of the door. “For now, we need to meet Allison.”

Stiles’ hands shook as he threw the Jeep into drive. He tried to cover it by rubbing them together, but Scott wasn’t fooled. He wasn’t even sure why he tried; it’s not like Scott ever failed to see past his defensive lies.

“Kinda nervous, maybe,” he shrugged, peeling out of the parking lot of the parking lot in front of Allison’s building.

“That makes sense.” Scott reached for his hand, forgetting the issue with the stick shift momentarily. “Are you hurting?”

“Mentally, emotionally, physically, spiritually -”

“I can only take it if your body hurts,” Scott interrupted, putting his hand over Stiles’ on the gear shift. No black veins crawled up his arm like they had for the past few weeks. It was an odd sensation, not to be in physical pain all the time when his insides still hurt so badly.

“Huh,” he said. “Guess not.”

“Let me know if it changes. This is just a… test.”

“To see if I can go out in public again,” Stiles snarked. Maybe he was a little bitter about being dragged out of bed at seven in the evening.

“To see if we can go out in public again. Together. _All of us._ It isn’t just you, you know. Allison’s struggling with it - I - I’m having…” Scott broke off, breathing too quick for Stiles’ comfort.

“Hey, deep breaths buddy, I know it’s not just me.”

His voice sounded all wrong, choked and too high as he continued. “No, I mean, it’s - even knowing - I just came so close to losing you both and -”

Stiles pulled the Jeep over on the side of the road, ignoring the honking car behind him. In seconds he was out of his seatbelt and crawling over Scott’s lap to anchor his Alpha.

“Slow it down, Scotty.” Stiles’ voice came out tinny, afraid, as Scott panted erratically. “I don’t have an inhaler so you’re going to have to work for it. Breathe with me okay? In through your nose, two, three, four, five, hold it, out, two, three, four, five. In, two, three, four, five, that’s good, now out, two, three, four, five.”

The rise and fall of Scott’s chest slowed as Stiles held their bodies together, secured his arms around Scott’s shoulders and let his forehead rest against Scott’s. In any other situation the position would have made him laugh, or at least consider popping a boner, but every muscle in his body ached for Scott’s relief, for his comfort and well being, with an ache that was impossible to ignore.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, trying to force his heart to stay steady in the stillness of the falling evening. It didn’t. “It’s okay,” he repeated anyway. “We’ll be okay. I promise it’ll be alright.”

“I can’t,” Scott got out between choked breaths. “I can’t do it, Stiles. I can’t - we can’t stay here this way.”

“I know, Scotty.” Stiles pressed a kiss against his forehead, biting back the tears that threatened to spill over any second as he thought of leaving his home behind, but also when he thought of staying. Of constantly being reminded, being afraid. “We’ll go, then. We’ll take Alli and we’ll go. Wherever we need to.”

“Just - just until it gets better,” Scott promised. “It’ll get better. It won’t take that long. We can come back and everything - everything can go back to the way it should be. It’ll get better.”

“Yeah, alright.” Another kiss, another whispered agreement.

Stiles didn’t need to hear his heartbeat.

 


	7. Chapter 7

_Now_

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Allison said, crouching down to help pick up the books that the girl she’d barreled into had dropped on the floor. “I am such a clutz today, gah, I can’t believe I -” She looked up and the words stilled on her lips as she realized who it was she’d bumped into. _Oh please someone just kill me now._  

“Allison, right?” Allison stacked the fallen books and pushed them toward Kinsey Taylor, the aggressively participatory girl who sat two rows up from her in English 101. “We’re in Dr. Davis’ class together, I think?”

“Oh, um, yeah. Hi Kinsey! So sorry about this, really.” The cheerful young woman peering back at her from under a big, natural afro and bright red cat-eye glasses didn’t _look_ like a red-ink wielding paper slayer, but Allison’s first research paper was still bleeding from her barbed quill, five days after the fact. And honestly, that had been kind. She’d already heard Kinsey call out several of their classmates for one verbal offense or another with all the swift efficiency of a hand grenade. It wasn’t that Allison disagreed with her at all. Someone needed to call out the shitty opinions of their peers, and Kinsey was much more eloquent about it than Allison would be. It was just, if a month of college classes had taught her anything at all thus far, it was that Kinsey Taylor was not someone to mess with. Or, um, talk to. At all.

“Don’t worry,” Kinsey grinned, taking her books back. Allison turned to go, already looking for Scott, but Kinsey’s hand on her arm stopped her. “Um, Allison? Isn’t that your…?”

Allison cringed as she spotted Scott and Stiles kissing on the little bench across from the languages building. Any other time it would be a welcome sight, with Scott’s fingers buried in Stiles’ hair and Stiles’ hands scraping playfully at Scott’s stubbled jaw. They were obviously deliriously happy, unselfconscious in a way they’d never gotten to be in Beacon Hills where everyone had known them as Scott and Stiles for so long that the transition to _Scott & Stiles_ was almost universally ignored. Allison would have loved to snap a picture, to watch lingeringly from the sidelines before scooting in to join them with laughing kisses and held hands. Instead, she stood stock-still just to the side of the entranceway, awaiting the judgment of her fire-breathing classmate.

“Girl, no, you do not have to put up with this,” Kinsey said, wrapping one arm firmly around Allison’s waist. “Do you even know how gorgeous you are? He cannot treat you like that. What a fucking douche, coming here and pulling that shit right in front of you. Boys, I fuckin’ swear -”

Allison couldn’t help it. The laughter bubbled up out of her, spilling out of her mouth like water out of a fountain.

“Are you alright?” Kinsey’s eyebrows arched high above her dark brown eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just…” Allison laughed, trying to catch her breath. “It’s just… not what you… think, that’s all.”

Kinsey looked unconvinced, but she didn’t have time to explain. Scott and Stiles were on them before Allison had even stopped laughing.

“Hey babe,” Scott smiled, kissing her quickly on the cheek. Stiles wrapped himself around her from behind, arms circling her waist and chin resting on her shoulder.

“You’re in a good mood,” she said, patting his hands easily. He pressed a kiss to her other cheek and then nodded his head toward Kinsey.

“Who’s your friend and why’s she looking at me like she knows about the time I-?”

“Stiles, quit,” Scott reprimanded quickly, cutting off Stiles’ train-of-mouth. Allison seriously doubted he thought at all about most of the words that spilled out of him on a daily basis. Scott held his hand out to Kinsey, sunshine smile clear on his face. “I’m Scott. This is Stiles. Sorry about...him.”

Kinsey stared at his hand as if it might bite. Scott faltered.

“Do we need to go into hiding, Alli, or are you going to tell Crimson Avenger here that we’re not bad guys?” Stiles squeezed tighter around her waist, long fingers poking gently at her ribs. “‘Cause I don’t mind, but you know Scott gets grumpy while on the run.” He turned toward Kinsey and said, conspiratorily, “He doesn’t do well without a solid nine hours of sleep every night.” Kinsey looked, if possible, more confused.

“Sorry, sorry,” Allison shook her head. “Scott, Stiles, this is Kinsey. She’s in my English 101 class. She helped review my paper earlier this week?” Scott’s eyebrows went up and his hand dropped, no doubt remembering the way Allison had moaned and groaned over that paper. Stiles whistled admiringly. He _would_. “Kinsey, this is Scott and Stiles. We’re… together.”

“Together...together?” Kinsey asked, eyes scanning all three of their faces. Allison took Scott’s hand and settled back into Stiles, trying to look more secure than she felt, and nodded. Kinsey brightened immediately. “Whew! Girl, I was afraid I was going to have to skip the house party tonight so we could drink wine coolers and cry through _Pretty in Pink_ or something.”

“Um… why would we -”

“House party?” Stiles grinned, snuffling into Allison’s hair. “Can we go? Please? We’ve been in college for at least three years now and we haven’t gone to a single party yet. We’re boring old people. Our parents are having more fun than we are. I’m pretty sure Melissa sent me a drunk text the other night.”

“Stiles!” Allison shushed before turning back to Kinsey. “I’m sorry. I’d say he’s not normally like this but he absolutely is. Why would you need to cancel your plans if we weren’t together?”

“It’s a rule,” Kinsey said, eyeing Stiles like he might need shutting up again sometime soon. “Women are my priority. If you were hurt, I’d want to help.”

“But… _Pretty in Pink_?” Allison grinned. Kinsey grinned back.

“My best friend back home had a total loser of a boyfriend and an undying love for Molly Ringwald. It’s a thing.” Scott held his hand out again, and this time, Kinsey took it. “So, are you all like California Girl here? Transplants?”

“Yeah,” Scott worked his arm around Stiles’ shoulders, sliding his side close to Allison’s until they were all three tangled together. Allison let her head rest on his shoulder, and wrapped one arm around his waist. “We’re from the Sacramento area.”

“California’s nice,” she nodded, lips pursed.

“You’ve been? We’re not from Sacramento exactly, more like a… very distant suburb. It’s such a cool state, though! What’d you go for?”

“Ever heard of Comic Con?” Kinsey tilted her head sideways, dark eyes flashing. Stiles sounded like his lungs were going to collapse. Before Allison could tell what was happening, he’d scrambled away from her and Scott and was holding Kinsey’s hands in both of his own.

“What year did you go? Did you meet anyone cool? Please tell me everything. Start from the beginning. I have time.”

“Stiles-!” Allison fussed, reaching to pull him back.

“I don’t even know where to buy a comic book in this godforsaken town, Allison! You will give me this, okay?” He turned back to Kinsey with wide, pleading eyes. “Please. They don’t even like action movies. I’ve seen every Nicholas Sparks adaptation ever created, and my ass is in a seat for every subsequent installment of SuperHorrifying Activity 18, but I had to go see _Age of Ultron_ and _Doctor Strange_ **alone**. And then they wouldn’t let me talk about it.”

“You talked about it anyway, Stiles.”

“Obviously,” Stiles shrugged Scott off. “They got upset though.”

Kinsey peered around him in Allison’s direction.  “You judged _Pretty in Pink_ when you made both your boyfriends watch _The Last Sunset_?”

“Aren’t we presumptive? I like horror movies,” Allison laughed, poking Scott in the side. “ _He’s_ the romantic. And we’d be happy to go to comic book movies with Stiles if he didn’t talk the whole time. Loudly. About how the books were better.”

“Well, they are.” Kinsey and Stiles said at the same time.

Allison and Scott sighed. There was no way this was going to be good.

* * *

 

_Then_

“You did this to me. You made me do it, I know you did. It’s your fault he’s-”

“Oh, sweetheart, you always had this in you,” Peter grinned, malicious, as blood streamed down her fingers. The preserve was dark around them, black sky devoid of stars, and the flashing blue of Peter’s eyes glowed eerily as he paced between the trees.

“You bastard, you killed him, it was you, the whole time, and I thought - I thought it was -”

“Open your eyes Allison.” Peter’s face drew up in a sneer. “Use that brain for something besides bullets and boys. I’m a werewolf, not a wizard. You’re the one that killed him. It was _you_.”

“No - no, I wouldn’t have, I -” She shuddered, still focusing on Peter, not the body at her feet.

“Look at him. Look what you did,” Peter directed, pointing to the place where blood spilled over the sawn off trunk of the Nemeton. “You gave it a life, Allison. You protected the pack. Good work.”

“I didn’t - I can’t -”

“Such a skillful cut, don’t you think? It could only have come from a practiced hunter. Your father will be so proud when he finds out. Of course, he probably would have preferred you not pick the only other human in the pack, but then I guess he’ll be happy, at least, that you destroyed the mating bond.”

“I killed him. I killed him. Oh God.  I killed him and Scott’s going to -”

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” Peter crooned, suddenly knelt alongside her on the trunk of the great tree. “There’s enough power in this old thing now, we can take Scott out together.”

“No, I am not going to -”

“What? You’d let him live, knowing one of his bonded mates killed the other in a passionate rage? Cut his throat on a slab of ancient magic? Carved up his skin like he was an animal? Look at his body, Allison. Look at what you did.”

Stiles was spread out before her, pale and cold except where his blood stained the blue-cream-gray of his skin. The slice at his throat was neat. Peter was right: if she had to describe it, skillful would be the word she’d use. The cuts along his ribs were careful, delicate, like she had done them with a paintbrush rather than a dagger. His beautiful amber eyes reflected moonlight that she couldn’t see, and there was still a smile on his lips from when he’d kissed her, just before -

Bile rose up in her throat. She choked.

“Kill me,” she screamed, shoving her dagger at Peter. The wolf laughed, transforming before her until he knelt, hulking, in his Alpha form.

“Why would I do that, sweetheart?” he rumbled, flinging the dagger to the side. “You’ve been so good for me. You’ve made everything so much easier.”

“I thought he was you! He looked like you! You made him - you -”

“Are you going to cry, little girl?” Peter reached out and drug one pointed claw down the side of her face, not pressing in enough to cut, just to tease her with oblivion. “Will you scream for your Alpha?”

“SCOTT! WHERE IS SCOTT? SCOTT -” she tried, before Peter’s hand closed over her throat.

Stiles’ eyelids fluttered as he coughed, weak and wheezing.

“You have to find him,” Stiles managed, covering his mouth as black blood eased from the corners. “Find Scott! You have to save him!”

“I can’t,” she sobbed, reaching for Stiles. Her arms were too short. Even fully extended, Stiles’ body was just out of her grasp, beyond the stretch of her shaking fingers. Peter lifted her with one hand around her neck. She gasped for air, knowing he was crushing her windpipe, but her sobs flowed easily anyway.

“I can’t do it, Stiles - I can’t face him, not when - not when -”

“You have to, Allison,” Stiles coughed, holding his flayed ribs. “You’ve killed me. I can’t watch him if I’m dead. You have to go, protect him from Peter. Go save our Scott.”

“Stiles, please - just, just stay here, okay?” she begged, scratching at Peter’s hand. “Just stay with me.”

“For me, please,” Stiles whispered, words echoing too loud in the clearing. He started gushing anew, bright red blood pouring from his wounds and cascading over the sides of the stump. “Please take care of him. I’ve loved him my whole life.”

“STILES!” she yelled as Peter swung her out over the side of the Nemeton, holding her above the river of blood the flowed through the clearing from Stiles’ body.

“You’re probably right.” Peter’s voice was crisp and clear despite his mouth full of teeth. “If I let you go back to Scott, you’ll probably just warn him of my plan, and then he’ll kill you. Better to drown you now and steal your power. Since you killed Stiles, it’s a two-for-one deal! Two Alpha Mates, and all I had to do was show up!”

“Just kill me and get it over with, you bastard,” Allison kicked and squirmed, trying to get him to let go, wanting nothing more than to crash down into the rock-strewn froth below. Blackness seeped in at the edges of her vision until Peter’s monstrous face, his glowing eyes were the only thing she saw. “Let go -! Let me go! I need to be with him, I need to be with Stiles, just let me-”

“ALLISON!” Scott’s voice cut through the haze, jolting her into consciousness. The dark, pine-scented expanse of the preserve was replaced with the soft yellow glow of lamplight, and Scott’s anxious face. “Allison, let him go, okay? He’s okay, but you’ll hurt him if you keep holding him like that, alright? So just… let go…”

Allison looked down from where she knelt over Stiles’ quivering body, looked at her thumbs pressing into his windpipe, the scratch marks running down his reddened face. He blinked at her, no trace of fear in his eyes, but tears leaking from them just the same. She heaved herself away, scrambling back into the corner where her bed met the wall.

“Oh God, oh God, I’m sorry, oh God I am so sorry -” she got out between wracked sobs. Stiles was on her immediately, barreling her over with flailing limbs and warmth and quiet soothing shushes.

“S’okay Alli, it’s okay. I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me, did she Scott? She didn’t. He can tell, you know he can, and you didn’t. It’s fine. Don’t cry okay? It’s fine.” His arms around her shoulders were warm and heavy, and the conviction in his voice as he told her he was okay made her cry all the harder. She couldn’t help  picturing him bleeding rivers in the forest again, helpless and dying because of her, because of her stupidity and selfishness, her desire to kill Peter herself.

“Hey, hey, baby,” Scott gentled her, pressing himself against her side as Stiles settled half on top of her. “We’re all okay, see? We’re all fine.”

“I - I - killed him,” she gritted out, body tense under Stiles’. Scott reached for her, fingers stretched out like he could siphon the ache from her heart, but she flinched back. “Let me up, let me talk.”

The two of them scrambled backward, falling over one another in their haste to give her space. Scott sat neatly crosslegged and Stiles sort of sprawled over him in that way that Stiles did when he was uncomfortable and trying not to look it. Scott gathered him up in a firm squeeze, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ body from behind to steady them both, and then nodded at her. Allison tried not to wince.

“It started like it usually does. We were here,” she gestured to the apartment she’d been sharing with her father since they’d returned from France, “and Stiles and I were preparing one another.”

“ _Preparing_ , preparing - or…?” Stiles’ mouth quirked and Allison felt a ghost of a smile on her lips. Scott pinched him hard on the side through the ridiculous Batman pajamas he wore when he stayed over, and he made a soft, hurt noise in response.

She almost laughed despite herself.

“Fine, yes, it started as a sex dream, Stiles,” she rolled her eyes. He pumped his fist in the air once, half-falling out of Scott’s lap before their Alpha caught him with a quiet growl.

“Stiles, Allison has just experienced something traumatic. Can we focus on that for two minutes please?”

“No, it’s fine,” she shook her head. “It’s fine. Really. Makes me… makes me feel better.” She caught Stiles’ eye, saw the flicker of a soft, true smile on his face before he replaced it with a mischievous grin. “It’s good, to laugh about it.”

“Was it the Nemeton dream again?” Scott asked, voice soft. Stiles laced his hands with Scott’s, to hold both sets back, keep them from reaching for her. She nodded.

“I was with you, and it was great, just like that night,” she licked her lips, heart thudding in her chest as the memory of straddling Stiles’ hips shot through with images of Peter’s face. “Then suddenly we were at the Nemeton, and it was Peter underneath me.”

“You mean - like -” Stiles grimaced.

“Yeah. _Like_.”

“Ugh,” he and Scott shuddered, together, a singular unit of disgust.

“So I stabbed him.”

“Wait -” Stiles interrupted, trying to flail despite Scott’s arms holding him firmly in place. “We were - and you had a - how did you - huh?”

“It’s a dream, Stiles. It doesn’t make a lot of sense. When we were here, and I was with you, there was no knife. With Peter, there was.”

“So you stabbed him. What happened next?” Scott prodded, wrapping one foot around Stiles’ legs to try and pin him down. Stiles squirmed anyway.

“I slit his throat, I guess. I cut up his sides, trying to get to his ribs, I think? I don’t remember cutting him. Just, suddenly, he was cut.” Scott nodded, earnest understanding pasted all over his face. Allison swallowed against the bile rising up in her throat. “And then he was Stiles.”

“So wait. I was me… and then Peter… and then me?”

“Yeah. And then Peter was in the woods, and -” she swallowed hard, tears stinging her eyes. “And Stiles was just laying there, looking like a bio project gone really awfully wrong, and I -”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Scott soothed, eyes bleeding red with his need to comfort her. “Can we…?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she nodded, opening her arms to them. They moved in on both sides, surrounding her with warmth and that clean, sleepy boy smell that made her pulse race.

“I’m okay,” Stiles said, nuzzling their noses together. Scott dragged his face over her neck, scenting her in a way he probably thought was subtle, but screamed mutual possession. “Promise.”

“We all are,” Scott added, rubbing his hand over her side, curling it up under the hem of her shirt. “Everything’s fine. He can’t hurt us anymore. Not really.”

“It wasn’t Peter that did the stabbing,” Allison grumbled, comforted and annoyed at the same time. “I’m not a child. I understand symbols in dreams. Stiles’ body as a bloody sacrifice at my own hand is obviously a symbol of my lasting guilt over the trauma I couldn’t protect him from -”

“Hey!” Stiles’ voice climbed an extra octave in his indignance.

“You didn’t protect him? _You_ didn’t? It’s _my_ responsibility, Allison, I’m the -”

“Alpha, yeah, we know, you know I’m right here, _right_? That I can hear every word you’re saying? My face is less than a foot away, and Allison, you’re just as human as I am -”

“Hunter, Stiles, and better trained than either of you, particularly in the act of taking down werewolves, which -”

“It doesn’t matter, I never should have even left you alone, especially that close to the -”

“Hey!” Stiles shouted, sitting up. “I’m fine, okay? We’re all- Okay, not _fine_ , but we’re all alive. We’re all okay, and here, and together. And you know, I don’t really need to be reminded how fragile I apparently am.”

“Hey, hey,” Scott gentled him, reaching up to trail a hand along Stiles’ arm. “We didn’t mean it that way. I think we all three feel a little responsible for what happened, right? And we shouldn’t. It wasn’t our fault. None of us knew Peter would do that. Right Allison?”

Allison nodded, chewing her bottom lip. The pout on Stiles’ face eased some, but his jaw stayed tense, like he was holding back words that wanted spilling. She wanted to eat them right out of his mouth. She reached up, smoothing her hand down the back of his neck and pulling him forward until their lips were a whisper apart.

“Maybe it’ll help if you let me see,” she said, indulging in the feeling of his eyelashes fluttering against her face.

“You wanna see how okay I am?” His voice shook a little at the sudden change, but then he was pulling back, out of her hold, and lifting his shirt over his head. “I am so okay.”

He ran his hands down his ribs, skin smooth and unmarred. The skin under his t-shirt was more wan and sallow than her own, marked by freckles and moles and soft brown nipples. His fingers grazed over one of them in an obvious show, but the little hitch in his breath, the way Scott’s nostrils flared, wasn’t faked. One hand trailed up to his throat, long fingers sliding over his Adam’s apple before settling again on his chest, scratching through the short, rough patch of hair there. “Don’t I look okay to you?”

“Much better than okay,” she said, voice gone to husk and smoke as she watched his free hand continue over his bare skin. The pajama shorts he wore were slightly too short for him, made for someone closer to her height than Stiles’, and the lean muscle of his thighs made her mouth wet.

“Oh my God, are you two serious?” Scott groaned, sniffing the air. “You just had a nightmare! A bad one!”

“Adrenaline response,” she said, holding Stiles’ eyes with her own.

“It did start out as a sex dream,” Stiles noted, licking his wide, pink lips.

“We could reenact the fun part. Replace the dream memory with something better,” she mused, reaching out to run her nails down the column of his throat, connecting constellations with her fingers.

“And what am I supposed to do?” Scott demanded, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of her side.

“You could watch,” Stiles shrugged, inching the front of his shorts down over his hips in a playful tease. “Or you could play too. I don’t think Alli would mind, would you babe?”

“There’s always room in the bed for you, Scott,” Allison nodded, mimicking Scott’s most earnest expression. “I feel like it’s my responsibility to check him for wounds. Everywhere. Don’t you think you should help out with that?” She pressed her face into Scott’s shoulder, whispering so quietly that above them Stiles had to strain to hear. “Don’t you want to take care of us, Alpha?”

Scott gave a pained groan, but it morphed easily into a happy one as she kissed him, sound and firm. His lips opened for her, smooth and hot, and she lapped at his mouth with quick kitten licks that made him shiver and whine. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, tighter to her body, until he rolled on top of her, bracketing her shoulders with his arms. For one shining moment, with her hands buried in his hair and his mouth slick against her own and his body covering hers like armor, she forgot all about the cold sweat fear she’d woken up in, the pain of the unfulfilled bond, the darkness that unfinished magic left. She forgot everything except the smell and taste and feel of her mate above her, surrounding her, dipping his tongue carefully inside her. And then -

“Uh, hello? _Guys_?”

 


	8. Chapter 8

_Now_

Scott trudged into the house as quietly as he was able to trudge, considering his shoes were wet, his scrubs were filthy, and his bookbag was about three times as full of homework as it needed to be since he’d finished training and started picking up actual shifts at the hospital.

He’d always respected his mother, but there was definitely no way around it now. She was probably a superhero.

“Scott, that you?” Allison called from somewhere in the kitchen. He could hear Stiles from the spare room, blaring some incredibly loud first person shooter.

“Yeah, home,” he muttered, stripping out of his scrub top and throwing it on the floor.

“Hey, uh…” Allison hung in the kitchen doorway, pint of ice cream in one hand and spoon in the other. She held the pint out to him. “Bad day?”

“With the stuff I saw tonight, I am pretty sure I’m never eating anything again.” He worked his shoes off his feet, peeling off wet socks and grimacing as they smacked onto the floor.

“Hm.” Allison looked thoughtful, taking another bite of Caramel Drizzle Crunch.

“Hm?” He could maybe get away with just sleeping in the scrub pants. They didn’t look _that_ dirty.

“Stiles?” Allison called, then waited a moment and yelled, “STILES!”

“ _WHAT?!_ ” came the muffled reply, followed by a string of creative expletives and a crash that meant he’d tossed his controller to the floor.

“You rang?” Stiles huffed, coming out into the living room with his hands crossed over his chest and annoyance apparent in every line of his body. If Scott hadn’t been so worn down, he might have laughed about it.

As it was he sort of snorted fondly.

“Hi Stiles. I’m home. I’m gonna -”

“Is this a Code Blue?” Stiles interrupted, looking not at him but at Allison.

“Is someone hurt?” Panic rushed through Scott’s body, lighting up his muscles with adrenaline. He looked around the room, wondering where the patient - person - whatever, might be, but all he saw were Stiles and Allison’s concerned faces.

“I think it is,” Allison nodded, reaching for Scott and then remembering halfway that she still had ice cream in her hands. She shoved the pint and spoon at Stiles and shooed him away, coming to wrap her arms around Scott’s ribs and pull him in close. “Don’t worry Scott. We’ve got this. We’ll take care of it.”

She pulled him easily into the bathroom, helping untie the drawstring of his scrub bottoms as they walked before she stripped the rest of his clothes off in the bathroom. She worked efficiently, not lingering on his undershirt or his boxers, before starting in on her own.

“Got the stuff,” Stiles said from behind them, making Scott jump a bit. He’d grown so used to all the noise in the hospital, it was hard to come back down at the end of the night.

Allison shuffled forward with her yoga pants still bunched around her knees and grabbed a clear green bottle from Stiles, setting it on the side of the tub. “Good. Get the water running? Hot.”

The bathroom was one of those surprises that Scott still wasn’t quite used to. The rest of the cottage featured mostly small rooms and homey - but definitely weathered - fixtures. Chris had touched up the paint, made some minor upgrades to the heating and cooling, and replaced the windows throughout, but he’d left most of the cottage exactly as he’d found it, scuffed wood floors and nicked doorframes included. The bathroom, though, was like something out of an ultra modern mansion.

Complete with a giant sunken garden tub.

“Told you it would come in handy,” Allison smiled as she poured the green bottle into the running water. The air filled with a delicious smell, something that made him want to stretch out in the sun.

“The tub or…?” he asked, somewhat dazedly as Stiles’ arms wrapped around his chest from behind. Stiles’ body - naked and warm and precious - snugged up behind his own, warming his chilled, damp skin.

“The aromatherapy oil was Stiles’ idea -”

“Got it from Deaton. Said it was good for calming anxiety.” Stiles snuffled quietly at the back of Scott’s ear, voice much softer than usual. He was grateful for that.

“The tub was mine. When Dad told me I could pick any room to redo, I’m pretty sure he assumed I’d pick the kitchen -”

“Which means he still knows basically nothing about you,” Stiles laughed, and Scott felt the laughter through his whole body, urging him to laugh too, so he did.

“Which is sad, but it got me this big, beautiful tub, so it’s okay. Even if it did cost the spare room closet.”

“A worthy sacrifice,” Scott agreed, feeling himself smile despite the heaviness still in his bones.

“In,” Allison demanded, pointing to the steaming tub, and the two of them helped him climb down into it even though his reflexes were miles better than both of theirs on a good day, and better than Stiles’ on a terrible one.

Then again, this had been a really, really bad day.

The water sloshed up to his chest, banishing the chill from his bones and lapping gently at his nipples. Every time the ripples washed over him, a fresh burst of scent bloomed in the air, making him feel hazy and sweet.

“Is there anything in this oil that might be poisonous?” He asked, working his mouth around the words as Stiles and Allison both settled in.

“Nope. Deats made it himself, just for us.” Stiles scooted closer, draping one long arm around Scott’s neck and resting his hand on Allison’s shoulder, drawing them all together.

“Okay then why haven’t we been using it like, every single day?” Scott grumbled, even though he didn’t feel all that grumbly anymore.

“Didn’t want it to lose its potency,” Allison smiled. “Then we wouldn’t have anything in our corner on Code Blue days.”

Before he could ask what she meant, Allison leaned forward to press a soft, sweet kiss to his mouth. Her kisses were drug-like, bringing him further into the comfortable haze started by warm water and nice smells and the closeness of his lovers. On his other side, Stiles dipped forward, kissing carefully along Scott’s bicep, his shoulder, up to his neck. They were just kisses, small, simple things that they’d exchanged a thousand times, but the rush of pleasure he got from being between the two of them was like nothing Scott had felt before.

Frankly, it was a little frightening. He wasn’t really sure nature intended a person to feel this good.

“Shhhhh,” Stiles whispered into his skin. Scott pulled his mouth from Allison’s, looking at him sharply.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“We can hear your brain working,” Allison said, rubbing wet fingers through his hair. She scratched gently at his scalp, sending little thrills of pleasure up his spine even as they competed with Stiles’ mouth on his collarbone.

“Oh, wow, that feels amazing,” he slurred as Allison tipped his head back. Together she and Stiles poured water over his head, keeping it away from his face. Allison rubbed shampoo into his hair, scrubbing gently at his scalp until Scott felt almost boneless, sinking down against Stiles’ side.

“Time to rinse,” Stiles laughed, lowering his head into the water over Stiles’ lap, supporting it with one hand as he used those deft fingers to clear the soap from Scott’s hair. It felt amazing, the little ways in which they cared for one another and for him, and Scott’s bad day began melting away the same as the little soap trails in the water.

“Wow. Guys - lemme -” he tried, pushing himself upright, but Allison dragged him back down, leaning against the far edge of the tub and pulling him over on top of her.

“Nuh-uh.” She rubbed her nose against his and settled him between her thighs, bodies pressed together in the water. “You just sit here and look pretty. Stiles and I have got this.”

Her kiss was anything but sweet: demanding, hot, all-consuming. She took his mouth like she wanted to fuck it, to hollow him out and live inside her stronghold. Her tongue, fast and strong, pushed past his lips to curl around his own, drawing a startled moan from his mouth. His cock hardened almost instantly, leaving him hyperaware of the push of her firm breasts against his chest, the soft, lush promise of her cunt at his waist.

“That’s it,” Stiles said from behind him. The added weight of Stiles’ body on his back was negligible in the deep water of the tub, but the flex of his hips as he ground them into Scott’s ass made quite the impression.

“Wait - in the tub?” Scott asked, as soon as he was able to pull his mouth away from Allison’s.

“What do you think the tub is for, Scott?” Allison laughed, pulling his hand down to her sex.

“Oh god.” Scott felt a little overwhelmed with the pleasure of it all, Stiles’ broad body covering his back, Allison’s strong legs cupping his sides, the wet heat of her so different in the water but still so familiar, like the taste of her mouth or the way Stiles looked affectionate when he first woke up, before he realized he was awake.

“Will you let me?” Stiles traced his fingers down Scott’s spine, pulling away enough to slide them carefully down the crack of his ass. The warm water pooling there against such a sensitive spot made him shiver, a small whimper caught in his throat. When Stiles pushed just one fingertip barely inside, though, he nodded as enthusiastically as he could without hitting Allison in the face.

“Yes. Yes, yeah, let’s - ugh, fuck, we need -”

“Don’t worry,” Stiles shushed him, big hands stroking soothingly down his back, over his sides, down to cup the cheeks of his ass and pull them apart. “I got everything we need. You just let Alli take care of things down there, and I’ll take care of things back here.”

“Sound good?” Allison smirked up at him, too calculated for a woman in a bathtub with both her boyfriends on top of her.

“Better than good,” he answered, circling his thumb delicately around her clit, letting the heat of the water shock the sensitive skin as he moved the hood back and forth. Allison’s expression changed instantly, careful smile crashing into open-mouthed pleasure as he worked his fingers over her cunt, placing easy kisses on her cheeks.

The first press of Stiles’ lube-wet finger inside of him was almost dulled by his attention on Allison. The second finger, however, came in loud and clear, stretching him hot and harsh despite the tension leaking from his body with every moment he spent in the water. He gasped, fingers stilling and face no doubt contorting, but Allison simply placed her hand over his, rubbing herself with his fingers until her expression matched his own.

“Yes, come on, give it up Alli, come on,” Stiles chanted quietly behind him, fingers still within the hot clutch of Scott’s hole. Under him, Allison’s hips bucked up twice as she ground her cunt against his hand before she shuddered and dragged it away.

“That was not - nggghhh - part of the plan.” She glared back at Stiles over Scott’s shoulder. Scott didn’t have to see his face to know Stiles was giving her his most innocent, wide-eyed expression - the one that meant he knew exactly what he was doing, and was almost happy to be caught.

“How are more orgasms not part of the plan? More orgasms should always - always - be part of the plan.” Stiles wriggled his fingers, stroking carefully until something inside Scott jerked, hard and good, making his cock twitch and his breath catch. “There we go,” Stiles said, stroking more insistently between his fingers, spreading them carefully before rubbing hard at Scott’s prostate again. “Open up for me Scotty. Want to be inside you, make you feel so good.”

“Oh fuck,” Scott breathed, and Allison pulled him forward until his head rested on her chest, just out of the water. She stroked a hand through his hair, calming him as Stiles worked a third finger in, spreading his body open with promise.

“Do it,” he choked out, nerves alight with the pleasure-pain of the intrusion, confused by the relaxation of the moment combined with the fierce torch of arousal burning in his belly. “Please - Stiles, please -”

“Okay,” Stiles soothed instantly, rubbing one large hand down the knobs of his spine. “Shhh, I gotcha. Not gonna make you wait for it. Don’t worry. Just ease off my fingers, okay? Alli, you got him?”

Allison gripped him tightly with her legs, settling him between her thighs and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She surrounded him on all sides but one, and Stiles at his back was the most natural thing in the world. His eyes shifted, mostly out of his control, and the brilliant crimson aura of them bathed his body. It was still weaker than it should be, but so much stronger than it had been back home, and the knowledge of it made his blood sing in his veins. They were his. He was theirs.

“Ready?” She asked, eyes big and beautiful and wide open while Scott fought for breath, for words.

“Yes, yes, please,” he nodded, trying to calm the frantic race of his heart.

“We have you,” she said, as Stiles pushed his cock inside one slick, hard inch at a time. The intrusion was strange. It wasn’t the first time they’d done it like this, but it always took his breath away. When Stiles was fully seated, his hole hot and throbbing around Stiles’ cock, everything stopped. The sound of their heartbeats thudded loud in his ears as Scott breathed deep, trying to adjust.

“So hot,” Allison sighed, kissing his slack mouth and squeezing him with her thighs. Scott tried to kiss back, muscles confused by the overwhelming need building in them - need for her, need for him, need to _move,_ to see this pleasure through to its natural end.

“There we go,” Stiles moaned, and Scott dragged his hips forward just a little, rolling them in soft waves that ground Stiles’ cock into his prostate. “Yeah, you’re ready aren’t you? Just stay relaxed, Scotty. Just let me -”

The first full thrust made him groan in pleasure, pulling at all the secret places he stored pain and setting them on fire, burning away the last traces of fatigue and gloom. Allison watched him, wide-eyed, her gaze consuming every bit of his attention that wasn’t focused on the slick slide of Stiles inside of him.

“How does it feel?” she asked, voice barely a whisper in the quiet air. Soft waves lapped at the edges of the tub, displaced by Stiles’ hips and his own rolling thrusts, but everything felt muted, like there was cotton in his ears.

“Full,” he panted out as Stiles thrust in harder, not painful but forceful, like Scott’s body could accept anything he gave. It could. It would. He wanted to. “Feels - unghhh, full and uh - good.”

“Like when you both fuck me,” Allison said tilting his head down to rest against her again, burying his nose in her neck. “When you both fuck me at the same time and I’m so full, it’s like I’ll burst, but in the best sort of way, and it feels so good to be between you but also like there’s no way my body can handle it.”

“Yeah,” Scott grunted as Stiles thrust in especially deep. His balls hung heavy in the water, cock bobbing with every powerful push of Stiles’ hips, but he didn’t want to take his hands away from where they clung to Allison’s body, didn’t want to pull away from either of them at all to handle himself.

“Oh god,” Stiles squeaked, picking up the pace. “Oh god, I can’t - you can’t talk about that while I’m _inside him_ , Alli - fuck -”

“What, can’t talk about how it feels so good to have you together on top of me? To have Scott’s hands and mouth on me while you fuck him? Watching his face when you push in? You have to see it, Stiles. We need to get a mirror so I can show you next time. He’s so beautiful.”

She pulled one of his hands up to her lips, sucking two fingers deeply into her mouth and stroking them with her tongue. The shocking pleasure of it rolled through his body, heightening the electricity of the moment every time Stiles pushed in again.

“Fuck, fuck, wow, that’s - wow -” Stiles stuttered, his mouth and hips matching pace as he tried desperately to hold off in the face of Allison’s torturous teasing. “How’s it feel, Scotty? Want her mouth on you like that? Or do you want mine? Maybe we could both try it. Maybe we’ll just make out around your dick like we’re all pornstars or something. See which of us can make you come the fastest -” Stiles trailed off, huffing breaths ratcheting up as his hips slammed into Scott’s over and over, fucking him hard and deep, filling him relentlessly.

“Maybe we’ll just keep you here,” Allison said softly, letting his wet fingers rest against her bottom lip. “Maybe we’ll keep you in this tub for a week, make love to you every day until you feel even half as good as you make us feel.”

“So good, Scott. You’re so -”

It was overwhelming, the pleasure of it all, being between them and cared for by them, having Stiles’ hands grip his hips and Allison’s body plush under his own. Tears pricked at his eyes, leaking at the corners as the mess of feelings tucked deep in his chest wormed their way out, clawing at his throat.

“Oh - oh - nnnggghhhh - ahh -!!” Scott cried out, body pushing itself over the edge without his permission, coming hard as Allison bit down on his fingertips. Stiles pumped into him one last time before pulling out and coming all over his ass, marking him up with Stiles’ scent.

“Beautiful,” Allison said, pulling him into a hard hug as Stiles slumped down over his back.

“Amazing,” Stiles slurred, comedrunk but still sweet as he nuzzled into the back of Scott’s neck. Between them it was warm and wet and everything he’d ever wanted, an immense and encompassing love.

 

Later, after they showered off and crawled haphazardly into bed, Scott asked, “So, uh. You guys know ‘Code Blue’ actually means something at the hospital, right? Means someone’s dying. Like, they need to be resuscitated.”

Stiles and Allison exchanged an uneasy look. “Well,” Stiles shrugged a little. “It isn’t too far off.”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked, brow furrowed. “No one came anywhere near dying tonight, as far as I know. And I’m pretty familiar with that feeling.”

“We all are,” Allison smiled, snuggling in closer. “It’s just… sometimes you come home and the light in your eyes is all gone out. You look so sad, so beaten down. We know part of it is the bond going unfulfilled, and how much that hurts you. But part of it is just you. The way you take on too much stress, too much pain, let yourself be overwhelmed with other people’s problems until they’re all you see.”

“So we came up with a word for it,” Stiles said. “Code Blue: Scott’s in trouble. It’s time for the heart team to step up and bring him back.”

Scott was stunned for a moment, speechless at the care and thought they’d put into such a simple phrase, how they worried for him, wanted to keep him safe despite his very existence putting them in danger.

“Why?” The question came out without his permission, but he couldn’t regret it, even as both their faces fell.

“How could you ask us that?” Stiles returned, pressing a hard kiss to Scott’s forehead and squeezing him tight.

“We love you,” Allison said. “We love you, Scott McCall. And we’re going to take care of you. Because you care for us. Because you’ll care for everyone before you care for yourself. But mostly because you are worth caring for, and we want to.”

“We want to,” Stiles echoed, catching his mouth quickly in a kiss. “We love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Thus,” Allison shrugged. “Code Blue.”

* * *

 

_Then_

“So, we’re sure this will do it? Drain the power from it for a while?” Scott asked, trying to keep the extreme doubt out of his voice.

“What happened here was an extremely draining event already.” Deaton sounded almost bored as he measured out the spell ingredients. “We’re just putting a cap on things. It’s not a permanent solution, but it should keep things quiet enough.”

“For how long?” The question hung between them in the air, and Scott knew Deaton had already expected this, had been expecting it, but it still hurt to see him flinch just slightly.

“As long as you need. Your duty is to yourself and your pack, first and foremost Scott. Not this place.”

“Well. We’ll see.” Scott shrugged, turning toward Derek and the betas. “You guys ready to go do some possibly dangerous, extremely boring magic?”

“Of course! What else do we have to do?” Isaac drawled with a smile.

“Hush,” Boyd said easily, no heat, as he grabbed a bag off the counter and tossed it to Erica. “You know you didn’t have anything else to do tonight.”

“Maybe I had a date,” Isaac said, eyebrows high.

“Ha. Right. Because if you did have a date, you could have kept that a secret for two seconds,” Erica laughed, and pushed him toward the door. Derek just shook his head, herding the wolves out like an overgrown sheepdog.

“Derek,” Scott said, only half-aware of what he was doing. Derek hung back, face solemn, as he shooed the others out into the parking lot.

“We’ll go, ah, get started,” Deaton said delicately, picking up his case. “We won’t need you until the end, anyway.”

“We’ll try to make it in time for all the plant-laying and boring chants, promise,” Scott tried to smile, but it came out cracked. Just like everything did now.

The clinic was quiet around them, tension vibrating between their hunched bodies, completely opposite of the way it had when they’d met two years ago.

“It’s a good thing,” Derek started, “trying to break down the Nemeton’s power. It’ll help. Take us off the radar for a while, maybe.”

“I don’t have much of a choice,” Scott shrugged. “Every time I even think about that tree, I -”

Flashes of red and black, his face illuminated by red light, the smell of Stiles and Allison bleeding out, the sensation of choking.

“Yeah,” Derek agreed, not needing him to continue. “I know a little about that.”

There’d been too much fire and darkness both for them, for this place, for a long time.

“It doesn’t mean we’re leaving,” Scott said, but the words sounded hollow.

“They’re sick, aren’t they?” Derek sidestepped him, settling back against the counter. “Both of them. They would have done all the prep before the ceremony. It - uh. I don’t know much about magic, but -”

“It’s done something to them. Deaton warned us that the ceremony wasn’t supposed to be interrupted. They have some sort of…” Scott rubbed a hand over his face. He was exhausted. Both Stiles and Allison had been mostly bed-bound since the Solstice, and the wolf in him clawed to get back to them constantly.

“Bond sickness,” Derek supplied. “That’s what my mom called it. You - uh. You’d have it too. Just reacts a little differently, since you’re the Alpha.”

“You could say that,” Scott groaned. “Being away from them for longer than an hour is like peeling off my fingernails. They’re both at the Argents’ condo because I can’t stand to leave one to take care of the other. It’s awful.”

“It’s better that you’re together though.” Derek moved forward slowly, like he was afraid Scott might reject his careful advance. One hand settled cautiously on Scott’s shoulder, and he was hit with a sudden flashback of the easy way Derek had handled him, before; even when they hadn’t been friends, they’d always had a physicality born of being the same, underneath. And like almost everything else, that was gone now.

He pulled Derek into a hug, hanging on until his former mentor relaxed in his grip, breathing a sigh of relief.

“You know you don’t have to be sorry,” he said fiercely into the hard bone of Derek’s shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I should have done something,” Derek’s voice was gruff with emotion that made Scott’s throat hurt. “A long time ago, really. I should have - he never should have been able to - I knew it wasn’t okay but I -”

“It’s not a bad thing to grant someone mercy,” Scott said, pulling away enough to look Derek in the eyes. He found them both full of tears, blazing blue in deference to his Alpha. The shift happened automatically, wolf recognizing wolf under the skin. “You gave him the opportunity to be better. That was a good thing Derek. You did a good thing. You’re a good man.”

“I don’t know about that,” Derek shook his head. “But I do know I - I have a good Alpha. And that’ll be true no matter what happens to Beacon Hills.”

Scott pulled him back in, soothing him until Derek’s shoulders stopped their minute shaking.

“We won’t let anything happen to it,” he promised. “Together. We’ll take care of our home, and each other. It’ll - it’ll be okay.”

He didn’t quite believe it yet, but Derek let him make the promise anyway.

“Yeah, Scott. We’ll be okay.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

_Now_

Stiles’ head was delightfully swimmy. His limbs were loose and free as he moved through the party, squeezing his body past other hot, sweaty people. He spotted Kinsey across the room and meandered toward her, drink in hand.

“Did Sean make it?”

“I haven’t seen anybody I didn’t already know,” Kinsey shrugged, filling a bowl with another bag of potato chips. “No Sean, no Verona either. I could have missed him I guess, but I think he just bailed on you.”

Stiles shrugged, mostly too warm to care about the fact that his unreliable co-worker had cancelled on them three times now.

“You seen my better halves?” he slurred, pressing down on the headband that held his floppy ears. “Halves? Thirds? My better… two...thirds? How does that work when you have two -?”

“No one knows, Stiles, especially you,” Kinsey shoved him, sending him spinning haphazardly into a Sexy Cat or - _something_.

“Sorry, sorry,” he flailed. Sexy Cat made a face and pushed him off. Stiles harrumphed. “What am I doing here Kin?” he whined, drawing out the nickname.

“Don’t call me that. I don’t know. I think I saw Allison and Scott outside earlier,” Kinsey fluffed her hair, and Stiles’ fingers itched to play with it. She must have noticed from the look in his eyes, though, because she grabbed his wrist in a firm hand and squeezed. “You even _look_ like you’re gonna touch my hair, and I will break these fingers. I don’t care how Allison feels about them.”

Stiles flushed. Most of it was _upset-embarrassed-burny_ , but some of it was _happy-fluffy-sexy_. Allison _did_ like his fingers a lot.

“S’pretty,” he drawled, pouting.

“I know.” She spun him in the direction of the patio doors.

“Did you just - did you just Han Solo me?”

“That sounds like something Scott is supposed to do,” she said, pushing him through the crowd. Stiles jerked, trying to get a look at her face.

“Was that a sex joke? I can’t tell. Allison says I think everything’s a sex joke but I honestly didn’t know that time. Scott doesn’t Han Solo me though. He’s too sweet. And he’s never seen Star Wars. Still.”

“What a travesty,” she said before grabbing his Solo cup. He sighed.

“I’m glad somebody understands me.”

Kinsey snorted before reaching around him to push open the big French doors. The cool night air hit him like a wall. Stiles shivered through his t-shirt and sweatpants, wishing he hadn’t let Kinsey nab his alcohol.

“Scott?” he called out, stumbling over his house shoes. “Scott! Scotty! I need a - I need a beverage!”

“I think you’ve had all the beverages you need,” Allison chirped, grinning. Her purple robe looked warm. Stiles wanted to crawl in it. Or crawl her out of it. Crawl her? That wasn’t sexy. That was-

“Stiles. You’re doing the thing where you narrate your sexy thoughts.” Scott let a hand fall to his shoulder, face earnest. “And you’re right. That’s not sexy.”

“I’m cold.” Stiles rubbed against Scott’s purple jumpsuit, trying to get warm. Scott shook his head.

“We told you to bring a hoodie or something,” he grimaced, unzipping his own jacket - purple leather that Allison had brought home from god knows where - to let Stiles in. Stiles snuggled close, pressing his cold face into Scott’s neck. Scott growled a little.

“What are you three even supposed to be?” Kinsey asked, handing Allison a Jell-O shot. They took them before Stiles could make grabby hands for one. He frowned at Scott some more before he realized Kinsey had asked a question.

“Oh! Oh! You’ll love it. You will.” He spun around, showing off his yellow t-shirt. He pulled Allison in with one arm, gesturing to the large purple target printed on her chest, and clung to Scott with the other. “Okay. Think hard. You can do it.”

Kinsey watched them all with her head tilted to the side.

“Is Scott a _girl_?” she asked. Scott nodded, toying idly with the low-slung belt of his very tight jumpsuit and pointing out the slightly homemade looking cut-outs at his hips.

“Scott was supposed to have a test tomorrow so he was gonna need to study tonight, but it got moved to next week so… we had a few last minute costume changes. Still, awesome right?” Stiles held up his hand for a high five. Kinsey ignored it.

“You dressed your boyfriend up as a _dog_ ,” she leveled at Allison.

“I am able to dress myself, ya know,” Stiles shrugged, pointing at the shaggy yellow dog ears he had attached to a headband earlier that day. “Made these all by my lonesome.”

“Weird,” Kinsey said, clearly not appreciating the craftsmanship that had gone into his eyeliner whiskers.

“What, is the sexy animal costume not a thing anymore?”

“Is that your real bow?” she asked Allison instead of acknowledging either Scott’s smug smile or Stiles’ general drunken self, nodding at the bow and quiver anchored on Allison’s back.

“One of, yeah,” Allison twirled, showing off her oversized sweats and archery gear. Stiles buried himself in Scott’s jacket again.

“Di’ja figure it out?” he asked, not looking up from his position against Scott. Scott squirmed under him, but Stiles just dug in deeper, rubbing his face in the join of Scott’s shoulder and neck. He slid his arms into Scott’s sleeves and grabbed Scott’s hands, twining their fingers together. Scott snorted, but settled under him the way Stiles knew he would. _Softie_.

“Matt Fraction’s Hawkeye, Kate Bishop, and Dog.” Kinsey sounded bored.

“You said his name was Lucky,” Scott protested, nosing at the side of Stiles’ face.

“It is! Kinsey doesn’t know her comics. It’s Lucky. I promise.”

“Or Pizza Dog,” Kinsey shot back. “Or Arrow.”

“Arrow? I think I like Arrow better than Lucky.” Scott pulled his fingers away from Stiles’, pulled his arms out of the jacket sleeves. “Did you want this?”

“From a guy who thinks _Arrow_ is a better name for a dog than _Lucky_? Not fucking likely.” Stiles spun on his heel, overshot by about seventy degrees, and ran smack into the back of Allison, where she was talking to some girls from her English class.

“Stiles! What are you -”

“Owwwwww,” he groaned, holding his side where Allison’s bow had poked him. Hard.

“Oh, babe, no, are you okay?” The frustration on her face melted away immediately as he rubbed the spot, whining the whole time.

“Noooooooooooo.”

“I told you I shouldn’t have brought an actual bow to this party,” she said gently, smoothing his hair and placing light, cool fingers against his hand.

“It looked way cooler this way though,” he groaned. Her face wasn’t the clearest at the moment, what with all the alcohol and subsiding pain and the general lack of focus that happened sometimes when he went a couple of days without his Adderall. Still, he thought she might be smiling, which was good. Alli should always be smiling.

“You’re doing the thought narrating thing again.”

“S’it working out better this time?” he grinned, leaning down until their foreheads touched. Strong arms slipped around him from behind, pulling him back against Scott’s warm, solid body, sandwiching him between them.

“Looks like it is,” Allison kissed his cheek, laughing as he tried to chase her mouth with his own.  

From the French doors, he could hear Kinsey making over the top gagging sounds. He flipped her off with a grin before settling back in, drinking in precious heat from his better thirds.

“We’re not better,” Scott growled into his ear, nipping at the sensitive skin behind it. Stiles’ skin pebbled and his nerves fizzed as Scott’s hands stroked up his stomach, rucking his t-shirt up. “And you really have to stop narrating your thoughts when you’re drunk. Especially if…”

“‘Specially if what?” Stiles prodded, wriggling in Scott’s hold.

“Especially if you don’t want me taking you home and _doing_ you.”

Stiles flushed happily and tipped his head back onto Scott’s shoulder, letting Scott support his weight. “Mmmm, and just how do you plan to do that?”

“Doggy style.”

Stiles spun around as quickly as he could, pushing Scott backward. “You did not.”

Scott _howled_ with laughter, leaning into Allison to rest his forehead on her shoulder.

“Dude. _Dude_. That was. I just.” Stiles continued to sputter. He leveled a look at Allison, taking in her shaking shoulders and pinked cheeks. “And I suppose you approved of that, huh?”

“What? It was _funny_ , Stiles!”

“Getting me all hot and bothered for a pun is not funny. Puns are the lowest form of humor. Honestly, after sixteen years of friendship, I expected better from you, Scott.”

“Oh, hey,” Scott reached for him, still grinning. “Come on man! I was playing. No pouting okay?”

“Oh, I am so pouting. I am _the most_ pouting. You have never seen pouting like -”

Stiles cut off abruptly as Scott pulled him forward and kissed him square on the mouth. Scott’s lips were soft and plush and a little wet, and Stiles sank into him easily, wrapping his arms around his lover’s neck. Scott wrapped one arm around Stiles’ waist and dipped him suddenly, making Stiles gasp and cling.

“Still pouting?” Scott asked, lips grazing Stiles’ in a whisper of a kiss.

“That depends. Were you really kidding about the doggy style thing? Because you know…”

“It’s your favorite,” Scott finished, grinning against his mouth. “I never joke about butt sex, Stiles.”

“You joke about butt sex all the time, dude,” Stiles corrected, nipping at Scott’s lips. “Take me home, Scotty.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Scott saluted, supporting Stiles’ body weight with one hand. “Allison? You getting in on this?”

Allison eyed them skeptically and shook her head. “You two go ahead. I’ll get a ride from Kinsey later. If you leave a wet spot I am going to -”

“ _ARGENT, COULD YOU AND THE TWEEDLE TWINS PLEASE IMMEDIATELY CEASE ALL DISCUSSION OF YOUR STRANGE AND HORRIFYING SEX LIVES_?” Kinsey shouted from the other side of the patio. Allison cringed.

“Just… change the sheets, please.”

 

The ride home went by much more quickly than Stiles expected it to, but then, things usually did when you were trying to get into your very hot boyfriend’s pants while he was driving your Jeep.

“Stiles, stop it,” Scott pushed him gently away but twined their fingers together on the stick shift.

“But I want it,” Stiles whined, leaning dangerously into the dip between the seats.

“And you’re going to get it. Just let me drive us the half-mile home first, please, so that we don’t end up in jail.”

“Why would we go to jail? Jail is not home. Jail is not conducive to doggy style.”

“Jail is what happens when I crash Roscoe while you try to give me road head,” Scott said, tightening his grip on Stiles’ fingers.

“See if I offer you a personal favor again,” Stiles sniffed. He didn’t pull his hand away.

By the time they got inside, Stiles’ buzz was starting to wear off, rapidly replacing itself with the fizz of arousal under his skin. He watched open mouthed as Scott moved lithely through their home, shedding clothes with grace and ease. First the jacket that Stiles should have borrowed an hour ago but hadn’t. Then the low-cut boots Scott wore, simple black ones to go with his outfit. The cut outs at his hips stretched as he peeled the top of the jumpsuit down, revealing skin that never ceased to be exciting. Stiles tripped over his slippers trying to reach it, to graze his fingers along Scott’s sides. Scott caught him before he could damage anything vital, standing him back up on his feet with a smile.

“Excited?” He wore that soft smile Stiles loved so much, the one that had faded away in the wake of Peter’s betrayal. They’d worked hard to earn it back. It was worth it.

“We haven’t had much, uh, private time… lately,” Stiles shrugged. “Not that I don’t love it when Allison’s here, because I do. I really, really do. It’s the best. She’s…”

“Amazing,” Scott nodded, circling Stiles’ hips with his hands. “But there’s something special about it being just the two of us, too.”

“Like the old days,” Stiles smirked, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“In the old days, I don’t think I was allowed to do this.”

The kiss was deep and demanding, pressing past his lips with teeth and tongue, stealing Stiles’ breath from his lungs. He gripped tightly to Scott’s biceps, pulling his Alpha closer.

“Up,” Scott ordered, gripping him by the thighs and hoisting his legs up around Scott’s waist. He carried Stiles easily into the bedroom, careful not to knock his head against the door frame. “Let’s get you out of these clothes.”

He toppled backward onto the bed, laughing as Scott tugged at his sweats.

“C’mon Scotty, who’s the drunk one here? Me or you?” Stiles wriggled his hips, helping Scott work his sweats and boxers off at the same time, pulling them down past his knees.

“At this point, you haven’t had a drink in an hour and I can’t actually get drunk anyway, so neither of us.” Scott stuck his tongue out and then dragged it up the side of Stiles’ bare calf, standing easily between his spread legs. A wave of lust swamped over Stiles, sending sparks through his stomach and radiating out into his limbs. He flailed once, careful not to kick Scott in the face (unfortunately not an unheard of accident), and struggled to pull his t-shirt over his head.

“Wait, stop, let me help!” Scott laughed, tugging the tee past his head and helping him slide his arms out. When Stiles was bared completely, he sank back onto the bed and pulled Scott on top of him with his legs, laughing at Scott’s shocked expression. The two of them rolled onto their sides on the bed, Scott still half-trapped in his jumpsuit and Stiles still, inexplicably, wearing thick white socks.

“Come on man, you had to know that was going to happen. You were standing _right there_.”

“Yeah,” Scott agreed easily, faux-thoughtful look on his face. “That makes sense. And you know, something else is standing _right here_ , so I guess I better grab it.” He wrapped his hand around Stiles’ erection, stroking him playfully in short, sharp jerks. The pleasure of it careened through Stiles’ body, setting every nerve at attention.

“Yep,” Stiles popped the P sound before darting in to steal a kiss. “That’s how things work around here. Manhandling and terrible jokes.”

“Oh, I’ll show you manhandling,” Scott shoved him over onto his back and crawled on top of him like a predator crouched, watching its prey.

“And also terrible jokes, apparently,” Stiles giggled, rocking his hips up against Scott in an effort to get more of that friction back.

“Learned from the best.” Scott nuzzled close to him, rubbing their faces together as he rolled his hips in smooth, slow waves against Stiles’. Stiles grasped at his sides, trying to hold their bodies together long enough for him to ruck up against.

“What’s the rush? Thought you wanted me inside you,” Scott whispered, lips brushing Stiles’ ear and sending chills down his spine.

“I do,” Stiles complained. “I just want you on top of me too. And around me. And underneath me. Why isn’t there more of you, is what I’m asking?”

Scott laughed, full bodied and beautiful. “You already have a boyfriend and a girlfriend, Stiles. You really think we need to add more people to this situation?”

“It’s just that -” Stiles interrupted himself by kissing kissing the mirth right out of Scott’s laughing mouth, taking it for himself. “It’s just that I can never seem to get enough of you, okay?”

Scott melted down on top of him, pinning Stiles to the bed with his body weight and kissing him. Their lips pressed brusing against one another as Stiles sucked on Scott’s tongue, grazing his teeth against it in the way he knew Scott liked. They fit together so easily, so familiar, all laughter and passion and careless, relentless love.

“You’re such a jerk,” Scott breathed against his mouth, struggling out of the jumpsuit as best he could while staying connected to Stiles in as many places as possible. Stiles kicked at his socks, forcing them off with his toes.

“I just said one of the nicest things I’ve ever said and you’re calling me a jerk.”

“Yeah,” Scott agreed, shoving the purple pants off his calves with his feet. “You just said the nicest thing you’ve ever said and now you want me to fuck you from behind. I can’t do it!”

“Why not?” Stiles asked, baffled.

“Because I don’t want to stop kissing you ever again,” Scott promised, taking his mouth once more.

“Mmmm,” Stiles moaned into his mouth before pulling away just long enough to say, “You have to eventually. Alli likes kissing, too.”  

“Fine,” Scott agreed, nipping at Stiles’ lips and rocking their bare hips together, cocks sliding against one another with pleasurable jolts of sensation. “I will stop kissing you only if I can kiss Allison. And since she’s not here…”

“Fine,” Stiles rolled his eyes, and then rolled them over, pushing Scott onto his back with ease. “But I get to be on top.”

Stiles rushed through the prep as much as Scott would let him, hissing at him to hurry as Scott worked _one - two - three - four_ fingers in a little at a time. The burn of the stretch was a familiar, grounding ache that only served to ramp his desire up more, especially when Scott shuffled him forward so Stiles could fuck into his mouth while Scott worked three fingers in and out of his hole.

“Fuck, fuck, too good,” Stiles grunted, sliding his dick out of the warm heat of Scott’s mouth. The head rested on Scott’s reddened lips and Scott lapped at them lazily while his pinkie teased at Stiles’ rim, slipping in for a stroke and then out for the next, never letting him get used to it. “You’re too - unnngghhh, too good at that.”

“I like having you in my mouth,” Scott shrugged, mouthing at the ridge of Stiles’ dick and twisting his fingers just so inside Stiles’ hole.

“Okay, enough, yeah, enough, we’re just gonna -” Stiles pushed up and back, using Scott’s shoulders as an anchor. Scott pulled up his knees, making a cradle of his hips, and held up both hands with his elbows braced against the bed.

“Like this?” he asked, and Stiles was hit with the flashback -

_“Sure you want to do this?” Scott asked him, elbows braced on the bed, fingers entwined with Stiles’. “I can love you without needing to fuck you, Stiles.”_

_“I thought you wanted to fuck me,” Stiles said, trying to keep his voice from shaking as he smeared way more lube than necessary over Scott’s cock._

_“Of course I do. You’re beautiful. I’m in love with you. Doesn’t mean we have to.”_

_“I want to,” Stiles said, truth radiating from every pore, truth he hadn’t even let himself consider, too raw and too pure. “I want you.”_

_“Go as slow as you want,” Scott smiled. “I’ll be right here, no matter what.”_

Stiles sank down as quickly as his body would let him, thrilling at the hot, tight, wicked stretch of Scott entering his body. His hands gripped tightly to Scott’s, watching as his lover’s face contorted with pleasure. Scott’s eyes glazed, shining red in the dim room, and Stiles could almost feel it - the string between them that Scott said was there, like fate joining them irrevocably.

“Ready?” he asked, rolling his hips against Scott’s in an off-beat rhythm, comforting himself with the minute slide of Scott’s cock inside him, Scott’s strong thighs supporting his back and Scott’s strong arms holding him up. “Scott, are you ready?”

“For anything,” Scott grinned.

They moved together with practiced ease, rolling hips and shuddering sighs. Stiles leaned forward, holding himself up on Scott’s hands and pressing kisses to Scott’s face until Scott broke, wrapped his arms around Stiles’ back and fucked up into him with brute force.

“Yes, yes, fuck, yes, that’s - oh god - oh yes -” he chanted with every thrust, breath forced out of his lungs with every hard push of Scott’s hips. He loved it, the savagery of Scott’s strength, the way Scott used it for Stiles’ pleasure, his joy. The way Scott kissed him and told him he loved him while his hipbones bruised Stiles’ ass.

The position was tough to hold, long legs cramped at his sides and back aching from the arch, but as soon as Scott’s hand slid between their bodies and caught hold of his dick, Stiles forgot about the twinge in his hamstrings in favor of the spiraling joy of impending orgasm. It started in his gut, radiating out like a flame, consuming his body until he was right on the edge.

“I love you,” Scott whispered, one hand jerking Stiles’ cock with fast, slick strokes. The other hand traveled past Stiles’ ribs, up, to the fading scar over his chest. Soft fingers stroked gently at the reddened flesh, soothed as Scott whispered, “I love you, Stiles. I love you. Fuck, I love you.”

Stiles came with a bitten off moan, pressing his forehead against Scott’s, trying to force his eyes open despite the water gathering in them. Scott leaned up and kissed them closed, holding Stiles’ quaking, overwhelmed body to his chest as he thrust up twice more and found his own release.

“You always do that to me,” Stiles grumbled when they were cleaned up and nestled in bed, having checked the sheets for any telltale wet spots.

“Do what? Make you come until you cry? I don’t think that happens every time,” Scott grinned, smugness all over his smile.

“Shut up,” Stiles pushed him, trying to be grumpy and failing miserably due to the endorphins still flowing through him body. “You promise me hot, filthy, no-holds barred sex and then you give me passionate love confessions.”

“You can be loving and still be hot,” Scott argued, brow furrowed.

“Case in point, yeah, I noticed,” Stiles gestured at him. “But, ya know, sometimes maybe I don’t want to be reminded of how actually fucking lost I’d be without you, okay? Particularly when I’m about to come.”

“Sorry,” Scott kissed him, not looking sorry a bit. “I’ll do better next next time. Promise. No holds barred filthy fucking. You got it. One hundred percent. I won’t even act like I _like_ you.”

Stiles snuggled back against him, taking his prefered place as the little spoon, and waved a hand.

“Don’t worry about it. I remember what a terrible actor you are.”

“What? I am not!” Scott said indignantly as he curled around Stiles’ body, wrapping one arm around his waist.

“Sure you’re not. Remember that time you told me you’d watched Star Wars when in actuality you barely skimmed a Wikipedia article?”

A long silence preceded Scott’s muffled, “No, not at all, no idea what you mean.”

“Exactly, you big softie. Now hush and go to sleep. We can slow bone again in the morning.”

* * *

 

_Then_

He was running. He hated running. But he had to be running, or he wouldn’t be this sweaty, panting, dizzy, aching, lungs bursting, sides hurting -

_Wake up._

_Wake up._

_Please?_

_Wake up._

_Stiles!_

The ground felt funny under his feet, like he couldn’t push off enough to get through the mud - mud? - up to his waist, plowing through, sinking steadily, going in up to his mouth, tasting the dirt and the muck, retching, retching -

_Can somebody get me another bowl? Please?_

_I’m right here, Stiles. Shhhh. Wake up, please._

The dim sunlight filtering through the trees overhead muted itself and then flashed brightly, pulsing in dizzying waves he couldn’t comprehend. The mud was gone, replaced with a hard ground that stung the balls of his feet to stand on, poked holes in his heels. He struggled to keep his feet off the ground, but gravity felt stronger, anchoring him down, pushing the harsh rocks into the bottoms of his feet.

_Stiles, please, you have to wake up. Please come back to me._

Red light flooded everything, surrounding him, just like it had when -

Stiles woke with a jolt, a scream stuck in his throat and sweat pouring from his body. He was already stripped down to just his boxers but the room felt too hot anyway as he kicked at the blanket that was covering his legs.

“Stiles, Stiles it’s okay, I’m right here, it’s -”

“Scott!” He turned, throwing himself into Scott’s lap and tucking his body as close to Scott’s chest as he could get.

“I’m right here. Shhhhh, it’s okay.”

Scott’s arms wrapped around him instantly, snugging him close in the suddenly-cool air. A chill sprung up all over his skin and Stiles buried in deeper, wracked with shivers. Tears flowed freely from his eyes without his awareness. He couldn’t pull his face away from Scott’s side where it was buried, not even to look at him. Instead he just pulled deep breaths in through his nose, filling his head with the scent of - mate, love, home, friend, safe - _Scott_.

“What’s happening?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know,” Scott said, voice rough with tears of his own. “I’ll find out, Stiles. I’ll fix it.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

_Now_

Allison smoothed the little black dress down over the cute new lingerie she’d bought especially for tonight. Not that her guests would be seeing it, obviously - well, except for the stockings. Still, there was something about new clothes that made her feel her best, and this weekend she wanted to look and feel as good as she could. She checked the suspenders of her garter belt one last time, luxuriating in the feel of soft silk against her skin. She fixed her lipstick with a fingertip, dragging extra color away from her lip line. Her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, dark against her skin, and Allison sighed as she tried to pinch color into her cheeks.

Over five months since the solstice, and she was just now starting to really feel herself again. And here it was, weeks away once more.

She heard the door open in the living room and breathed a sigh of relief that it was just Stiles and not Scott with their guests in tow.

“Stiles, did you get the -”

“Drinks? Yeahhhh buddy,” Stiles grinned, hefting a case of beer on one broad shoulder. His signature plaid pulled up over the crest of his hip revealing a tantalizing sliver of skin, and Allison had to force her eyes back up to his face. “Whoa there girl. Somebody’s excitable tonight.”

“Shut up,” she growled, not meaning a word of it. “I’m happy. Scott’s been wanting to have people over, and it finally feels right to have them here, and it’s just…”

“It’s good,” Stiles nodded. “I get it. I’m happy for him too. And us. Happy for everyone. Happiness all around!”

“Seriously shut up,” she laughed, and pushed him toward the kitchen. “Go! Put those in the cooler. You got wine, too, right? Because -”

“Because you’re too fancy for PBR now, I know,” Stiles shouted back, slamming cabinets in a completely arbitrary and useless pattern, considering the cooler full of ice was on the floor. Allison rolled her eyes.

“It’s not fancy. I just wanted to look nice. We haven’t seen them since -”

“Well, you’ve never seen Sean. I don’t know why he would merit dressing up for, though. When does Scott get home?”

“Should be on his way. When’s your shift start?” Allison paced, holding a brand new stack of coasters she hadn’t decided on where to put yet.

“Shop’s closed tonight, remember? Sean’s coming too - finally - but neither of us can stay up late. We’ve got inventory in the morning.” Stiles grunted his displeasure as he hoisted the rest of the cans into the fridge. “Think I’m just gonna crash with him tonight, since his dad wants us there at like, five. I don’t want to wake anybody up tomorrow morning.”

“Is the guest room set up?”

“Uhhh….”

“Remember, I asked you yesterday to wash the sheets and -”

“Yeah,” Stiles swung back into the living room, tripping over a stool and then righting himself in one graceful flail. “‘Course it is. I’m just messing with you. Everything’s good and ready. I dunno why Kinsey needs clean sheets anyway, since she never stays over, but -”

“Stiles,” Allison groaned, but cut herself off as the door swung open.

“We’re here!” a familiar voice sounded from the porch, and Allison instantly launched herself across the room.

“Oh my God, oh my God, I’ve missed you so much!” she squealed, jumping in place as she hugged Lydia tightly to her chest.

“Lyds?” Stiles gawped. Allison heard him trip over the stool a second time, but she didn’t turn to look; the amusement all over Cora’s face was plenty.

“How was your flight?” she asked, pulling away long enough to see Lydia’s face. They’d skyped and texted and talked for hours on the phone, but for the first time since August she had Lydia’s face in her hands. Her hair curled around Allison’s fingers, frizzy from the humidity so close to the coast, and Allison giggled, smoothing it down and pressing a kiss to Lydia’s forehead. “Did Scott scare you? He’s terrible around the airport.”

“Hey!” Scott shouted from the front porch. He lugged in their bags, Cora’s neat black satchel resting precariously atop Lydia’s giant pink polka-dot rolling case.

“Struggling there buddy?” Stiles laughed, pulling Cora in for a hug. Scott grumped.

“Lydia packed enough for a month. She’s got more clothes in here than Allison has in the whole house.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s enough to test any werewolf’s strength,” Stiles assured sarcastically, before tugging the suitcase out of Scott’s hands. He immediately lost his balance, swaying comically under the weight until Scott cracked a grin and shoved him off, dragging the suitcase to the guest room.

“Our flight was fine,” Lydia said, hands tucked around Allison’s shoulders. “Well, they didn’t have ginger ale, and Cora gets claustrophobic, but otherwise it was fine.”

“I don’t get claustrophobic,” Cora growled as she shouldered Lydia out of the way, taking her own hug from Allison’s neck. She squeezed tightly enough that for a second Allison couldn’t breathe, her heels leaving the floor as Cora lifted her up onto her toes.

“I’m sure you don’t, sweetheart,” Lydia laughed. “Please let Allison breathe. There’s a good girl.”

Allison laughed as Cora threw a half-hearted snarl over her shoulder, followed almost immediately by a soft smile.

“So! Didn’t you say you have some sort of… friends… here?” Lydia asked nonchalantly. Too nonchalantly.

“You already met them didn’t you?” Allison sighed, glaring at Scott’s retreating back.

“Just Verona!” he promised over his shoulder. “Had to stop by the hospital, give Mariela my availability for the next month. Finals are soon, you know?”

Allison was excruciatingly aware of that, but this weekend was for fun and friends and decidedly not for finals - or anything else - so she shrugged it off. She didn’t want a repeat of the arcade situation, no matter how well that had worked out.

An hour later, any thought of finals was far from her mind.

“So, if you had to choose one superpower to have, what would it be?” Kinsey asked. Her normally carefully cool exterior was slipping into something warmer with Verona on one side of her, almost drunk on cheap beer already, and Cora on the other making snide comments under her breath that Scott had to continually pretend not to hear.

“Flight. For sure,” Sean said immediately, but Stiles ignored him completely, shouting “Telekinesis! For sure!”

The eight of them sat around the living room like old friends already. Scott, Stiles, and Allison piled into a knot on the sofa, limbs finding the most comfortable spot with the ease of much practice and consistent communication (like, “Stiles, get your knee out of my ribs” and “Allison, are you trying to grab my ass or my calf?”). Lydia and Cora sat together in the big recliner, Lydia snuggled into Cora’s side. Kinsey and Verona each had dining room table chairs, pulled close together, while Sean chose to sit on Allison’s work out ball.

(“It’s good for my back,” he’d said. Stiles rolled his eyes.  

“Leaving your house is good for your back.”

“You know you’re right?” Sean had said with a look of exaggerated wonder on his face. “I _did_ find this expensive beach ball outside my house! Wow, Stiles, man, thanks!”

The sourness on Stiles’ face had almost faded.)

“I want to know things. What’s that superpower?” Verona asked, looking between Stiles and Kinsey.

“Uh. I think that’s called having a library card.” Kinsey laughed as Verona shoved at her, sloshing her beer over her hand.

“No! I mean, I want to know things people don’t know. Like, read minds and stuff. Or better. I want to be like, super smart. Figure out Area 51. Shit like that.” Her speech slurred a bit but her eyes were bright and the giddy flush on her face settled something in Allison’s soul. It was hard being away from the pack, hard for all of them, but the little life they’d started here was beginning to come together, and that was -

“Wait,” Scott asked. “Is this about Bigfoot again?”

Lovely.

“I’m telling you, he’s real, Scott! I’ve seen him!” Verona reached for her cellphone on the low coffee table before Sean snatched it away.

“Nuh-uh. You asked me to keep it in case you got drunk. You are definitely drunk.”

“I’m not -” Verona protested, before staring sadly at her almost-empty beer. “Okay. I’m drunk. But I’m telling you, man. The truth is out there. Bigfoot is real.”

“I’m sure he is,” Scott laughed. “And if he is, I guess I’d want, uh… super speed, to run away from him.”

“Speed?” Stiles and Sean asked at the same time, with almost matching looks of horror.

“Scotty, what sort of superpower is speed?” Stiles shook his head, an air of betrayal all around him. Allison had to hide a giggle behind her hand.

“Um, the sort that would help me _escape Bigfoot_ , obviously.”

“Hm. I think I’d like the ability to shapeshift,” Lydia smiled a shark’s smile, and Allison laughed into her solo cup.

“I dunno,” Cora drawled. “You already turn into a monster when your latte isn’t just right.”

“You are paying for that,” Lydia laughed, smacking at Cora’s hand around her shoulders ineffectually. “When you least expect it.”

“That’s where I always get you,” Cora pressed their foreheads together. “I am always expecting it.”

“Alright lovebirds,” Allison said, rolling her eyes. She’d never seen Lydia so happy, which made her happy, even if it was kind of gross.

“Oh no,” Kinsey interrupted. “You do not get to do that, girl. Not when I’m constantly telling you to keep track of those boys’ tongues in public.”

“Well,” Allison leaned forward, grinning. “How am I supposed to keep track of them if they’re not in my mouth?”

“Gross!” Verona and Sean both mimed gagging, but Stiles just high-fived Scott behind her head and said, “I dunno, maybe not telekinesis, maybe -”

“I want invisibility,” Cora interrupted. “Some Sue Storm shit, preferably. Forcefield powers and stuff.”

Kinsey shook her head. “Sue Storm has multiple powers. You get to pick one: forcefields or invisibility.”

“Invisibility,” Cora said instantly. “So I can sneak into to kitchen and steal all Allison’s ice cream without her knowing. I know you have some, Argent!”

“Go get it,” Allison laughed, waving her off. “Have all you want. Stiles ate all the Caramel Crunch already, though.”

“Always knew you were trouble, Stilinski.” Cora ruffled his hair as she left the room on her search.

“So, what, you guys have been friends since like… kindergarten or something?” Verona asked.

“Nah. Well, um, Stiles and me, but you knew that,” Scott said, reaching past Allison to rub at Stiles’ shoulder.

“Yeah, you’ve told me all about your epic polyamorous love story and how disgustingly happy you are. Trust. I’m sick of it. I think everyone in the hospital is, actually. We’re going to come up with a new disease: Happiness Exhaustion.” Verona winked.

“So that’s a thing you all do, huh?” Lydia laughed, eyeing Allison in particular. “How about you - _Sean_ , is it? Does Stiles tell you how _incredibly_ fortunate he is that these two let him hang out with them?”

“Hey!” Stiles grunted, but then shrugged immediately. “I mean. It’s true. But still. Hurtful.”

“Nah,” Sean said slowly, taking a drag off of the PBR that had been growing steadily warmer since he’d cracked it open an hour earlier. “He doesn’t ever really talk about them.”

“Really?” Allison asked, one eyebrow cocked. She found it a little hard to believe, especially considering how effusive he generally was…

“Yeah. I mean, he might, if I could get him to shut up about his damn _Destiny_ characters for five minutes.” Sean snorted, making Stiles sputter into his beer. Allison nearly choked on her wine.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me, Mr. ‘I Play Smash Bros. on the Circuit.’ How many times have you told me about your sweet Pikachu moves, huh? Huh?!”

“Settle, Stiles,” Scott laughed, “It’s not like you have anything to prove, right? It’s fine if you don’t want to tell your friends about us…”

“I will go down on you right here in the middle of this room Scott Delgado McCall, and don’t you even doubt it,” Stiles threatened, untangling himself from Allison’s legs to stand up.

Verona and Kinsey hissed in concert. Verona made the sign of the cross with her fingers, and Kinsey covered both of their eyes with her hands.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Sean asked, clearly searching for their assistance.

“Every man for himself,” Kinsey proclaimed loftily. “We women, though, we have to stick together!”

“Hear hear,” Lydia laughed, raising her glass for a toast. She caught Allison’s eye across the room and said, “To sticking together.”

Allison raised her cup in return.

“To sticking together.”

 

It was after midnight by the time Lydia and Cora were tucked safely in the guest room bed. Kinsey had given Verona a ride home an hour earlier, and Stiles and Sean had left soon after, bemoaning their inventory in the morning, which meant that Allison and Scott were the only ones left awake.

Which meant that Allison and Scott had _plans_.

As soon as the bedroom door was closed, Allison made her move, kissing him hard and fast. Her tongue tangled with his as she pulled his top lip into her mouth and gave it a good hard suck. Scott shuddered. He tried to wrap his arms around her waist, but Allison grabbed his hands first, pinned them to his sides and marched him backward toward the bed. He buckled easily when his knees hit it and sprawled back, leaning up on his elbows.

“You gonna leave me all alone here?” he grinned, patting the bed next to him.

“Maybe,” Allison teased, and stepped back toward the chair. Scott frowned but when she put one foot gracefully on the chair’s seat, he seemed to get the picture. Allison turned away from him, giving him a good look at zip on the back of her dress as she pulled it down slowly, teasingly revealing flushed skin.

“Beautiful.” Scott’s voice was harsh with arousal. The gentle squeak of the mattress caught her ear and she turned just as Scott started to approach.

“Thank you. Now, go sit down. I haven’t even gotten started yet.” She gestured brazenly to the underthings still clinging to her body: a simple black strapless bra, lacy black panties, cut high across the cheek, and dark stockings pulled up to mid-thigh, held in place with a simple garter belt. Scott’s eyes travelled hungrily over her, finally coming to rest at the dark line of the garter against her pale thigh. The slow burn of arousal tingled in her stomach, breasts, hands, knees. Scott wanting her never lost its power, always made her feel stronger, more valued, cherished.

Scott bent over to untie one shoe, trying to keep his eyes on Allison as she slowly snapped open one side of the garter belt, then the other side. The stockings fit fairly well, and barely rolled down as she moved toward the front. With one foot still up on the seat of the chair, she slid her hand over the front tie, unsnapped it, and then rolled the stocking down very carefully. She reveled in the feeling of soft, smooth skin under her own hands almost as much as she would have if he was touching her. Scott’s belt buckle hit the floor with a sharp retort. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, jeans down around his knees. She wanted to laugh, but instead what came out was a low growl.

“Let me.”  

Scott stood unsteadily next to the bed, watching her with his hands hanging limp at his sides. She whipped off the other stocking, going for speed over sensuality, but he didn’t seem to mind. Actually, his mouth hung open a bit, eyes red and wide as she approached, the suspenders of her garter belt swinging gently. Allison raked one short, unvarnished nail down the side of his face, gently, teasingly, pulling it down to his chest and letting it rest there over his sternum. She pinched one nipple very lightly through his shirt, forcing a gasp from his mouth. Allison tried not to grin, wanting to preserve the heat of the moment, but every time Scott fell apart for her it felt fresh and fun, like they were sixteen again.

“Sensitive, huh?” She used her nail to trace lightly around the stiffening flesh and then bent her head to the other, laving it with her tongue through his shirt. Scott’s head sank back as a short groan escaped his throat. His hands hovered uncertainly near her body. “It’s okay. You can touch.”

Immediately, warm palms plastered themselves to her cool skin, one on her left hip, toying gently with the lacy edge of her panties, and one sliding up her back to rub gently at her neck.

“God, Allison, bed, please, now,” he begged, his voice squeaking a bit as she latched onto his right nipple with her teeth. His hands gripped her hips tightly and he pulled her body into his, falling clumsily back on the bed. Scott lay across it horizontally, claws tipping out in his efforts to get his jeans the rest of the way off, while Allison sprawled next to him, kissing a dirty line down his chest and undoing buttons with her teeth.

“Knew I shouldn’t have let you talking me into wearing this. These jeans are too tight,” he huffed as they finally hit the ground. Allison sat up and smiled.

“Maybe I like playing with your buttons,” she winked. Scott’s face flushed a deep red under his tan and he covered his face with one hand.

“You’re going to kill me. I’m going to die. Please tell Stiles I love him, and my mom that it was you that got me killed after all. Pretty sure she and Deaton have a bet - Ahnnng.”

Allison giggled as she worked her way through the rest of his shirt buttons, his white shirt transparent in places where she had kissed a bit too enthusiastically. She parted it carefully before climbing on, resting her hips just above his as she raked her nails down his chest. Scott’s eyes slammed shut and his back arched, pushing his hips up to try and meet hers.

“Nah-uh, Scott. Not yet. There are so many other things we need to do first.” Allison leaned over his body and rested her hands on either side of his head. She licked into his mouth forcefully, stealing his breath, sucking gently on his tongue. “Aren’t there things you want to do to me, Scott?”

“Oh my god,” Scott sighed and tightened his arms around her waist. Suddenly, Allison felt herself tipping sideways, and then she was on her back underneath him, laughing into his mouth. “Let me, Alli. Please.”

Allison’s skin burned where she could feel his heavy erection through the soft cotton of his dark blue boxer briefs. His open shirt brushed her skin, lighting up nerves all along her torso. Scott’s lips pressed firmly against hers prompting her to open up, surrender. She sighed against his mouth.

“What’s the magic word?” she teased, bucking her hips up against his rather cruelly. Scott stilled for a moment over her, obviously trying to regain control of himself.

“Please,” he said through gritted teeth. “Or I’m going to go take Stiles up on his blowjob offer from earlier.”

“Idle threats,” Allison laughed, wrapping her legs around his waist. Even through their clothes, her panties and his boxers, their bodies fit together perfectly, just like they had since they were sixteen. She angled her hips as she ground up into him, rubbing just right against his cock and watching the pleasure wash over his face.

“Oh shit, mmph, Alli, Allison, hey…” Scott grabbed her hand frantically. “Allison, you’re gonna - I’m gonna -.”

“Not yet.” She kissed him one more time, almost gently, and used his distraction to flip them again, settling over his lap. She held herself above him, letting him catch his breath as the head of his cock brushed teasingly against her clit.

Scott’s eyes rolled back a bit and he grabbed one of her breasts and thumbed the nipple lightly. The shock of his hands on sensitive skin shook through her, though she bit back the whimper, an old habit she hadn’t gotten out of even though they’d been on their own for months. Scott placed his other hand at the small of her back, teasingly alternating brushing his fingers over the black satin and her ass.

“I think I’d like you to fuck me, Alpha,” Allison winked and pressed another kiss to his lips.

“D’we have… I mean, do we need to use a… protection?” Scott fumbled in his lust-fuelled haze.

“I was thinking we might practice for… uh. The big event?” She waggled her eyebrows half-heartedly, nerves sticking her words in her throat. “I mixed up some of the herbs Deaton gave us...before. They’re supposed to, um…yeah.”

Scott huffed at that and wrapped his arms around Allison’s torso. He hugged her down, close to his chest and buried his face in her hair.

“I can feel it in me all the time. I don’t - I don’t really like to talk about it, because it feels like a secret, but like a good secret. Not like getting bitten, or that time we had to, ya know, hide, but like… something really good, like a present I don’t want anyone to know about, and it just lives right there inside me all the time. I can’t wait to share it with both of you.”

“You -” Allison started, shaking her head and blinking back tears. “Scott McCall, I love you. Now take off those boxers so I can show you how much.”

“Yes ma’am,” Scott grinned. In a few short seconds they were both stripped down, only the soft satin of the garter belt between their skins.

“You ready?” Scott asked, thumb circling teasingly at Allison’s clit, just in the place he knew to touch her. In one fluid movement, Allison pushed back and down, burying Scott to the hilt inside of her. He choked on a moan, eyes widening comically. Allison took his face in her hands.

“Whenever you are.”

She kissed him fiercely but kept her hips perfectly still, allowing him to fill her but still teasing them both with the ache for friction. Scott gripped her body tight, pulling his knees up behind her and pressing his back up off the bed. She could feel the tension in his thighs and hips, the strain as he refrained from fucking up into her where she sat. Allison wrapped one arm around his shoulders and neck, kept the other on his face, her fingertips threading through soft, curling, dark hair. She rubbed her thumb over his temple soothingly as he panted in the space between their mouths. The air in the room grew thick with something besides shared arousal and close comfort.

“Alli, ah… please…” Scott squeezed his eyes closed again and clenched his jaw. Allison pressed kisses to his cheeks and chin and lips, clenched the muscles of her vagina around him. He shuddered. “I can feel it - unf, _wow_ , everywhere. It’s like it’s - I can’t -”

“You can, it’s okay. I’m right here. Give it to me.”

His eyes flew open, pupils large and dark with arousal inside the rim of deep brown irises. “Please, Allison, _move_.”

Allison pressed forward, licking hungrily into his mouth, and began to rock up and down the length of his hard cock. Her thighs tingled with the beginnings of an ache she knew she’d feel in the morning, but she pressed down harder, firmly settling into his lap before pushing back up again. The head of his cock dragged inside her, sparking rough moans that she delivered against Scott’s parted lips, no longer trying to hold back. She held tight to his shoulders and he rocked up against her, letting her control the pace. His hands were branding irons against her skin, sliding over the sweat-slicked skin of her back and hips, ruffling the lingerie that clung to her.

Scott ducked his head as she pulled up, nipping gently at her breast and causing her to groan more loudly this time. He smiled around a mouthful of pale, tender flesh before sucking her nipple into his mouth. His spine arched in a way that couldn’t be comfortable but he didn’t seem to care, enjoying the taste of her skin, the heat of her body, the sounds streaming from her open mouth. Allison ground back down onto his cock and pulled his head up by the chin.

“Look at me, Scott?” she asked, feeling the unbearable weight of the love between them, between all three of them, the bond that tied them together and pulled them apart. Something hungry and possessive flashed behind his eyes as he pulled her body up and in, eyes locked on hers. Scott slammed up into her and Allison shuddered, biting her own mouth to try and keep control. She snaked one hand down between them and began to rub her clit quickly as they rocked together. Her thighs trembled with the effort of keeping her above Scott’s undulating hips and the burning coil of tension in her belly made her gasp out his name.

“Scott, Scott, Scott,” she chanted, half-aware as the crest of her pleasure began to rise.

“Allison, baby, gorgeous, yes, love you,” he panted back, holding her eyes open with the force of his stare.

“Love you, so much, would- uh, anything, you know don’t you?” She rested her forehead against his, filled her entire field of vision with his soft brown eyes and the crinkle of his smile.

“I know, Alli. God, so good. Come for me, Allison. Want to feel it,” he thrust up again, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her fingers worked quickly, pressing hard on her clit as she bounced into his thrusts. Scott slid one hand down and around to join her, rasping his thumb over the sensitive nub, and then sliding two fingers inside her alongside his cock.

The stretch was shocking, sending waves of heat over her skin and through her belly. He curled his fingers, knuckles pressing hard against her walls with every forceful thrust, pushing the pleasure through her relentlessly.

“Almost there, almost there, going to…” he whispered, muscles tense as he slammed into her body over and over. The heat in her groin bubbled up, spilling over into breathy, frantic sounds. She pushed down once, twice, and orgasm rocked through her body. Allison grabbed Scott’s free hand, squeezed it tight as she rode out the aftershocks, her muscles clenching around his cock and his hand. He thrust up quickly three times in succession before he came with a grunt, arching up toward her and holding her hand to his mouth, kissing messily at her fingers.

“So…” Allison said when she’d caught her breath, lying beside him in their bed on what was - yes, definitely Stiles’ pillow.

“Uh. Yeah. So. Derek said there might be a… um. You know.” His face flushed bright red, and she did know, but nothing could have stopped her from prodding him,

“Might be a _what_?”

“Um. A….” Scott’s voice trailed off to a whisper. “A knot.”

“So I guess those jokes about doing it ‘Doggy style’ at Halloween were a little on the nose, huh?”

Allison hoped very sincerely that Lydia and Cora were sound asleep, or she might never live down the truly terrible shrieking noise that followed Scott digging his fingers into her ribs without mercy. 

* * *

 

_Then_

“Where am I? Where’s Scott? Is Stiles okay? Did someone find us? What’s happening - Dad, please -”

“It’s okay,” Dad shushed her, putting one hand on Allison’s shoulder - sore, so sore - and pushing her back down to the hospital bed. Around her machine beeped in time with her heartbeat, and she could feel the faint tug of the IV in her arm as she tried to sit up again. “Allison, stop. Lay down. Scott’s with Stilinski right now, he’ll be back as soon as the boy gets transferred to a normal room.”

“Normal room? From where? Where’s Stiles?” Her heartbeat ratcheted up in fear. All she could see were Peter’s eyes, searing into her memory, and Stiles’ face right before he blacked out, crumpled in pain.

“You both lost a lot of blood, that’s all. Stiles was in the critical care unit, but he’s going to be fine.” Her dad sat down on the edge of her bed, holding one of her hands in his lap. His back was hunched over with exhaustion, and Allison wondered how many hours - days even - she’d been out without him leaving her side. The bags under his eyes were large and dark, and three empty Venti coffee cups sat on the little rollaway table near her bed.

“Can you tell me what happened?” she asked carefully, trying not to spook him.

“I think Scott’s going to have to do that,” he said with a sigh. “Pretty sure he’s the only person who was aware for the entire thing. How do you feel?”

Her chest hurt, burned, with every breath she took in and out. Allison lifted the neck of her gown and peered down at the bandage covering it, settled between her breasts. A red X flashed through her brain, blotting out everything else.

“Like I almost died, mostly,” she said, trying for humor and failing. Dad squeezed her hand twice and took a shaky breath.

“Yeah. But you didn’t.”


	11. Chapter 11

_Now_

Scott dragged himself to the kitchen still rubbing sleep from his eyes. Allison and Stiles were still tangled together in bed, sleeping soundly, and Kinsey was snoring in the guest room. He laced his sneakers up and zipped his hoodie as quietly as he could before heading out to the shore.

The soft glint of sunrise on the eastern horizon barely illuminated the muddy shoreline. He took a deep breath, senses filling with the vast expanse of the ocean: the low rumble of the tides in his ears, the scent of silt and salt and sea, the tang of it on his tongue. He stretched, just watching for a moment as the earth woke up around him. His breath hung in the early December air, just a little, reminding him of the warm things to come.

The “Be a Better Scott McCall Program,” as Stiles had lovingly dubbed it years before, had probably been the best plan he’d ever come up with, at least in high school. He didn’t really need to work out anymore, but the feeling of the ground under his feet, the connection to the earth and the air, the knowledge that he was pushing his body to do more, to be better, kept him rising early to get a run in before Allison and Stiles rolled out of bed.

The thought of them, his mates, all tangled up together safe and warm, sent a contented thrill through his limbs. In his head, his wolf yipped its happiness, playful and aggressive. Scott looked around, careful, but the beach was clear of people this early on a Saturday with the season already turning quite cold. Their stretch of shore was rarely crowded anyway, far from the bathing and kayaking areas, but this morning it looked as if he might be the only living being out for miles. He shrugged his hoodie off and toed off his shoes in the grass. For his purposes, that suited him fine.

The shift took him gradually. He felt himself change, growing broader in the shoulders, longer in the teeth, sharper in the hands. The fresh scent of ocean hit him like a wall, made him want to howl at the mother moon and call the tides to himself, to feel connected to all that sun and sea. He let the power of the ocean overwhelm him, fill him up with energy and motion and strength. He ran.

He never dared to stay shifted long while out in public. It’d be his luck that they’d come to a place that was supposedly hunter-free and he’d get shot full of wolfsbane during a run on the beach he didn’t even need. Still, he let himself enjoy every minute of the immense sensory overload. He splashed through the edge of the water, hands and feet and claws curling in the muck and causing him to shiver in the bright nip of the air. He breathed in deep through his nose, salt air clearing his sinuses and making his eyes sting. He let himself make gruff little noises of joy, the kind that Allison giggled at during movie nights that ended in tickle fights. He lost himself in the sheer magnitude of it, and it was good. It was all so good.

So when he finally realized there was something there to smell besides the sea, he couldn’t help the high, pitiful whine that escaped his mouth.

“What the actual fuck, Scott?” Kinsey’s face hovered between shocked and horrified as Scott scrambled out of the surf and back into his human form. As quickly as he could shift, it wasn’t quick enough; she’d seen… well, too much, probably.

“I can… I can explain,” he stumbled over both his words and his feet. Kinsey just shook her head and took off back toward the cottage at a sprint.

By the time Scott made it back to the porch, Allison had her arms wrapped around Kinsey’s shoulders on the swing, and Stiles was crouched in front of her, hands running wildly through his own hair. At the sound of Scott’s feet on the steps, Stiles turned and grabbed him, hands bracketing Scott’s jaw.

“Are you okay, Scotty? Talk to me. Tell me it’s fine,” he said, breathless.

“Is she okay? Allison, did you -”

“Kinsey’s gonna be alright, Scott. Talk to me about you. Why’d you shift? Did you smell something? Hunters? Do we need to… I don’t know, call Chris? Derek? I bet we could get Cora and Lyds back here today if we needed to. What happened?” Stiles’ words spilled out, fast and high-pitched with worry, until Scott zoned back in on his face. The sharp ozone smell of Stiles’ anxiety cleared his head of everything but his mate.

“I’m fine, Stiles,” he got out, meeting wide, scared amber eyes with his own.

“Then - then why did you -” Stiles puffed, hands tightening on Scott’s face. “Did you lose control? Lose your anchor? What -”

“I was… just happy,” Scott looked down at his feet, shame making the blood rush to his face. “I just wanted to feel it for a minute without… without being in danger. I was happy and I got stupid and -”

“Oh, Scotty…” Stiles’ face went soft as he wrapped his long, lean arms around Scott’s shoulders. Scott nuzzled his face into Stiles’ neck, scenting his mate with long, shivery pulls through his nose. He could hear Allison murmuring quietly to Kinsey on the swing, but he tuned them out. Instead, he let himself be enveloped by Stiles’, well, Stilesness, that familiar flutter of hummingbird pulse and the smell of his pillowcase and the faint thrum of bond potential under his skin.

“I’m sorry,” Scott whispered, nuzzling in closer, rubbing his nose against the stretched length of Stiles’ throat. Stiles rubbed his hands over Scott’s shoulders, soothing.

“It’s fine, Scotty. Kinsey’s fine, and she needed to know anyway. We should tell all of them. Even though it’s safe here… -” he broke off.

“It’s never really safe,” Allison finished, voice hushed. “There’s protection in having a pack, even if they’re human.”

“Hunters?” Kinsey’s voice was shaken, but she spoke clearly, loudly enough to be heard. “People… hunt… you. Like an animal?”

Scott pulled himself away from the comforting grip of Stiles’ body, but Stiles didn’t go far. Instead, he spun around, draping himself over Scott’s shoulders from behind and tucking his hands up under Scott’s arms. The cross of Stiles’ forearms on his chest was heavy, grounding, and Scott gripped them with shaking hands to keep himself anchored.

“Some people do, yeah,” he answered, voice thick. “We don’t think… Allison’s family has kept hunters out of Bellingham for a long time. But that doesn’t mean -”

“If they knew we were here, they might come back anyway,” Allison said tightly. “Hell, they could be here now, looking for us. Hunters aren’t known to be forgiving, and my family lost a lot of its power after I met Scott.”

“Why?” Kinsey asked, eyes narrowed. Allison shrugged.

“I loved him. Immediately.”

“So?”

“Hunter families don’t take too kindly to their next General being in bed with an Alpha. Or a beta either, actually,” Stiles offered. His face was pressed close to Scott’s head, nuzzling gently at his ear in a close approximation to the scenting that Scott did to them regularly. Scott felt himself start to relax back into Stiles’ hold. Kinsey was scared, shocked, but she was his friend. And she wasn’t a hunter.

“So wait. You were a hunter, and he was a - a -”

“Werewolf,” Stiles and Allison replied, in unison, grinning. Kinsey nodded, lips pursed.

“So I’m guessing the whole threesome thing you guys have going on is totally not weird to anybody else you know, is it,” she laughed, a slightly hysterical little sound.

“Actually, I think we were all pretty weirded out by that at first. Werewolves? No big deal. Fairies, Kanima, wendigos, hunters, mute supernatural assassins, legendary Chinese demon soldiers, and a fucking sadistic fox that possessed me for two months? Par for the course. Suddenly wanting to bone my best friend’s girl? Not a comfortable realization.”

“Wait… so… what?” Kinsey looked floored. “You were - fairies and - fox spirit…?”

“I know, I mean, Allison’s the hottest, but you know, she was Scott’s _true love_. It just wasn’t right!” Scott could feel Stiles’ grin against his temple. He shoved an elbow gently back and into Stiles’ side. Stiles oofed, but held tight to Scott anyway.

“Stiles is the worst,” Scott confided, a small smile creeping to his face. Kinsey returned it, if uncertainly. “I was bitten when I was 16. Allison moved to our -” he gestured between himself and Stiles “- hometown just before that happened. We had a, uh.. rough couple of years.”

“And you moved there because…” Kinsey prompted.

“Hunter family. The Alpha that bit Scott… we were there to kill him.” Allison cleared her throat, paling slightly. Kinsey couldn’t know what it meant, of course. She didn’t know Peter, hadn’t seen his face as he’d stood over their tangled-up bodies tied to the Nemeton. Still, though, she’d been around long enough by now to know that when Allison’s eyes stuck in the middle distance, or when Stiles clung a bit too tightly, it was something they didn’t talk about, just pushed through like salt-heavy seawater. She grasped Allison’s hand and squeezed. “I wasn’t exactly aware of it at the time.”

“You came here to get away, didn’t you?” her voice was quiet, as if she only knew what she was thinking once she said it. Scott swayed on the spot, anchored heavily to Stiles’ body, and nodded. “Something hurt you all. I’m not sure what an Alpha is, but I am guessing it was that. It hurt you, and you ran here to get away from it.” She paused before looking Scott straight in the eye. “Do you think it followed you?”

“No. No, it couldn’t have. He couldn’t, this time.”

* * *

  _Then_

 

“What are you doing here, Scott?” Derek’s whole body tensed.

“Are you okay?” Isaac stood, troubled look on his face. “Did something… happen? Uh, not happen…?”

“You called me,” Scott said. The confusion he felt on his own face was reflected on the rest of the pack’s. Malia and Kira were still standing guard at the Argents’ apartment building, but the rest of the pack was gathered here in Derek’s loft, including - “Lydia? You’re not…”

“Not what?” she said, head pillowed in Cora’s lap. Cora’s hands stilled in Lydia’s hair. Her voice, always a bit harder than he expected it to be, could chisel ice with graceful precision.

“She’s not what, Scott?”

“Not missing, obviously. Derek, where’s your phone? And Isaac?” Scott’s heartbeat ratcheted up in his chest. The pull of the moon rising, delayed because of the long day, made his blood flow more quickly. This feverish dread had little to do with the Solstice, though, he thought.

“Not here,” Derek ground out, patting down his pockets and the sofa. “Isaac?”

“Nah, mine either.” Isaac ran his hands through his curls, shaking his head. “I don’t know when - I mean, I had it earlier but…”

“You had it when Boyd and I were out getting groceries,” Erica corrects. “That was… three hours ago, about.”

“Are you sure he had it then?” Derek demanded, nostrils flaring.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Erica bit back. Derek’s eyebrows stayed unmoved, raised high above his eyes

“He had a very personal request.” Boyd shrugged. “It’s not something anyone but us would have gotten, so…” Isaac flushed deep crimson, but Derek had already moved on.

“If you had it then, do you remember the next time you used it?”

“What about you, Mr. Second in Command?” Lydia smiled. “When did you misplace yours?”

“I don’t -” he faltered, looking to Scott for back up. “People don’t really call me. I don’t remember when I used it last. Days, probably. Definitely. It could have been -”

“It’s okay Derek. It’s not really all that important; if Isaac had his three hours ago, that narrows the field down by a lot. But…” Scott grimaced. “I don’t know how much we need to narrow it down anyway. There were only so many people who knew that tonight was the night, weren’t there?”

“Of course. It’s not like we told people. I didn’t even tell Danny,” Isaac assured him.

“So, who does know?” Scott’s eyes roved over the people gathered, his pack. “Kira and Malia, Stiles and Allison obviously, the six of you.” He met Derek’s eyes as they both spoke the next name.

“Peter.”

“Did you see Peter this afternoon, Isaac? Was he here at the loft?”

“Um… yeah, I think, he said he was coming to give Cora something…? He was just here for a few minutes…”

“Give me something?” Cora’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s Creepy Peter got to give me?”

“Um, I think he was in your room? He went upstairs…” Isaac hedged as Cora haphazardly dumped Lydia from her lap and raced up the stairs. Scott turned abruptly toward the door, throat tight.

“Wait, Scott, where are you -?”

“If Peter’s out there,” he grit out, not turning around, “he’s out there to get Stiles and Allison. I can’t let him get to them. I have to get back to the Argents’ before -”

“You don’t know that’s -” Derek started, but Cora’s sneakers clattering back down the spiral staircase cut him off.

“Scott,” she said, voice shaking. “You need to go. Now. Go now.” He turned, eyes catching on a flash of white and purple she held at arm’s length.

“What is it, Cora?” he felt himself asking, even though he knew. Of course he knew. Had always known it would eventually come to this. She held it up, mute agony on her face. A bouquet of fresh, bright Monkshood quivered in her hand as she peeled the white wrapping off of its stems. On it, drawn with painstaking sweeps of ink, was the Hale family triskele, overlaid with a bloodred spiral.

“Scott,” she repeated. “You need to go.” She didn’t have to say it again.

 

Isaac caught up to him a block from the Argent’s townhouse. He pulled up next to Scott’s bike in the street and nodded toward the back of his old, beat-up station wagon where Boyd and Erica were already shifted.

“Derek had one too, the wolfsbane and the note… thing,” he said, breathless. “He and Cora are with Lydia, trying to figure out where Peter might be headed if he…”

“If he already has them,” Scott’s jaw clenched. He sped off, building in sight, and his stomach sank as he noticed the park bench out front empty. He fled up the stairs, taking them at full speed mindless of the cameras in the stairwell. It didn’t matter, though. By the time he got to their floor, he could already smell Peter’s scent fading in the hallway.

Kira groaned from the elevator entrance, blood drying on her forehead from a cut that had already healed. He crouched down next to her, eyes flashing.

“Did he take them? Does he have them?”

“Yes,” she said, eyes squeezed tight. “Malia scented him before he got here… we tried to hold him off but he’s done… something. He’s much stronger than he should be. By the time I got up here they were already unconscious. He just… he walked right out with them and there was nothing -”

Scott’s human instinct to comfort his friend was completely overridden by the Alpha’s rage at the threat to his mates.

“Did he say anything? Do you know where he’s -?”

“The Nemeton,” Erica called from the stairwell. Her voice was choked as she added, “Lydia’s sure. She says it… well. It’s Lydia.”

“Is my bike still parked at the curb?” he asked, moving to his feet.

“Yeah, um, no one’s moved it…” Erica frowned. Scott hefted one of the heavy French chairs that sat around Argent’s table over his shoulder. He let himself shift, pushing past the beta stage, and growled over his shoulder.

“Gather the pack. Meet at the Nemeton. Peter Hale dies tonight.”

Erica’s gasp was lost in the shatter of the third floor windows. He jumped, and by the time he hit the ground, all he saw was red.

 

Scott didn’t remember riding his bike to the preserve. There was a chance he hadn’t, even, that maybe he had just run all the way there like a feral beast, searching for his prey. His heart pounded in his chest, and it felt tight, like it used to before an asthma attack. The woods smelled heavily of pack and mate, even now, but overlaid with fear and pain.

The Nemeton wasn’t easy to find. It hid itself or made itself known when it liked, and finding it had a price. Luckily, that at least was a price Scott, Stiles, and Allison had all paid already. Scott could feel it there, the awareness of it at the edge of his mind, calling him close with its symphonic magic. He let loose a howl from his chest, drawing the pack in. They moved quickly, coming closer with every breath, each of them shifted and sprinting gracefully in the dark.

He let the edges of his consciousness expand, bleeding out into the surrounding night. His territory lit up under his feet, pulsing with the life force of the land and the old magic of the Nemeton, the packs, the blood spilled. He heard Stiles and Allison together, both of them breathing, and relief washed over him. He staggered with it, head dizzy and aching with the release of that voice that had been telling him over and over, _It’s too late, they’re gone, he’s already won_.

“Can you smell them?” Derek asked, fangs extended. The rest of the pack quickly drew up in formation behind them, Cora and Lydia bringing up the rear.

“Should she be here?” Scott asked eyeing the redhead.

“He’s using magic. We don’t know what kind. If it comes down to it, Lydia may be the only one of us there that can stop him.” Cora held tightly to Lydia’s hand and kept her chin high, as if daring Scott to question her.

“Good thinking,” he said, nodding. She nodded back. “Just - keep her safe, yeah? That’s your priority.”

“And the rest of us?” Boyd’s voice was quiet.

“Get Allison and Stiles to safety. They may be injured. Someone -” he looked to Isaac and Boyd “- you two, you make sure they get out of the preserve alive. Got it?” They nodded.

“Derek and me?” Erica tossed her blonde head, wrapping her hair up in a quick, messy bun the same way she used to in gym class.

“You’re with me. I need my strongest soldiers at my back.”

“When we catch him?” Derek whispered.

“Leave Peter to me, Derek,” Scott growled. “You don’t need to do that.”

“And if I want to?” Derek met his eyes, flashing blue. Scott shook his head.

“You really don’t. Come on. We need to move.”

Scott smelled them before he saw them: the tang of fear, the scent of mate, and the well-up of fresh blood overwhelming, even through the little grove that surrounded the Nemeton. He fought the Alpha shift, trying to keep his head even as the wolf inside him snapped and snarled. Derek kept one hand on his shoulder as they moved stealthily through the trees, reminding him both of his goal and what could be lost.

“So, I see you’ve finally decided to join me,” Peter said, voice carrying through the night air. “Lovely. I did hope you’d be here for the main event.”

“Peter,” Scott channeled as much of his Alpha command into his voice as he could muster, “Let them go. If you want me, you can come get me, but Stiles and Allison are human. You have nothing to gain from hurting them.”

Scott broke through the tree line to see Stiles and Allison woven into an intricate web of limbs and rope, tied down over the stump of the Nemeton. They glowed a searing red to match his eyes, and the glow illuminated the pain on Allison’s face, and Stiles’ slack, unconscious features. Blood welled sluggishly from large red Xs carved into both of their chests, and Scott winced at the bright sting of their blood in the air.

“You always were naive, Scott,” Peter crooned, voice honeyed. “Of course I gain something from hurting them. I get to hurt them! Just look at them. Aren’t they lovely? They sound so pretty when they’re crying. As their Alpha it’s probably best that you know, Stiles broke first. He’s your weak link. In case you need to choose.”

“Peter, why would you do this?” Derek’s hand on Scott’s shoulder clenched tighter, claws digging into the muscle there to hold him back. Derek was right; they had no idea what Peter had done, to himself or to Stiles and Allison, and running in headlong was a bad idea. But seeing them there, so close and in so much pain, made him ache for the taste of Peter’s blood in his mouth.

“You got my note, right Derek? I would think it would be obvious.” Peter circled the Nemeton slowly, hands clasped behind his back. He stank of herbs and blood and old death, a familiar bouquet that made Scott’s throat itch. “Then again, you’ve never been the brightest of the bunch. Perhaps Cora got it.”

“Yeah, you know, most of us don’t speak the language of flowers Uncle Pete, but a wolfsbane arrangement is completely unsubtle,” Cora said from her spot next to Lydia.

“The Monkshood might have been a little much,” Peter conceded. Scott’s skin crawled with impatience. He caught Lydia’s eye as stealthily as he could, but she shook her head. Magic, then. Of course. Perfect. “It was really what was on the outside that counted.”

“Um… isn’t that… backward?” Isaac asked, looking genuinely confused.

“Not for you, Isaac.”

“Enough,” Scott ground out. “Stop toying with us. Just tell me what you want. It’s yours, if you let them go.”

“He still doesn’t get it,” Peter laughed. “He doesn’t get it, does he Allison? He doesn’t understand yet that this is already over. It’s done. You are powerless here, Scott. You may be the Alpha, but you are a child to me. A toy. I am a god, and you outlived your usefulness long ago.”

The air around Peter began to shiver and quake, tinging red. The bright glow around Allison and Stiles began to dim, and Scott felt it, felt him draining their bond potential and twisting it into something else, something burning and destructive.

“What is he doing?” he ground out, stepping closer. Derek jerked him back by the shoulder, but Scott fought, pushing his beta away. “Peter! This is your last warning. Let them go!”

Peter grinned. “Why don’t you just come and take them from me?”

Scott roared his rage as he fell into the Alpha shift. He stalked out from the trees, Derek hot on his heels and Erica flanking his other side. Peter shifted as well, eyes glowing brilliant blue but somehow looking much larger and stronger than last time they’d seen him in a fight.

“What did you do, Peter?” Derek asked, voice catching. “This is - Peter, what did you do?”

“Only what was necessary, nephew. Something you never seemed to be able to accomplish. Leave the Hale retribution to me. When I’m the Alpha of Beacon Hills again, you won’t have to worry your pretty head about anything.”

“Even if you had a pack backing you, you couldn’t take out an Alpha, and especially not an Alpha like Scott,” Erica growled, fangs extended. “You have to know you’re going to die.”

Peter’s body pulsed brighter with the red light he pulled from Stiles and Allison. Allison whimpered, a small, pained sound that made Scott’s hackles stand up.

“You know what the problem with this pack is?” Peter asked, almost conversationally. He looked to Cora. “It’s that it is made up entirely by stupid children. None of you have an ounce of brains to share between you, and your fearless leader may actually be dumber than a rock. You had the most powerful witch this side of either ocean here, right here in your midst, and not only did you not make sure she was dead, you didn’t even ask her any questions first.”

“Witch?” Lydia’s voice was curious. “Who - oh, Jennifer? Jennifer Blake?”

“Julia,” he corrected smoothly. “She preferred Julia, dear. She did make such delicious sounds when Kali called her that, you know. It’s really too bad they both had to die. They made a lovely couple.”

“How-”

“He stole her memories,” Derek shuddered. “He must have found her before she died, stolen them then. Scott, this is… this is bad. Julia was powerful, was a survivor. If Peter’s been using her memories to - to cast magic then -”

“Careful, Cora,” Peter wiggled his claw-tipped fingers at her. “He’s going to beat you for Least Stupid Sibling soon.”

Cora tried to rush forward, but Lydia caught her by both shoulders, reminding her of the shaky ground on which they stood.

“I don’t care what magic you’ve learned. I can still gut you before you can get away,” Scott rumbled. His claws itched for Peter’s innards, to see his smirking face still and pale.

“Do you think you can, Scott?” He glowed brighter, and seemed to grow even larger than before. “Come on then, Alpha. Come to their rescue.”

The fight was quick. Peter was strong, stronger than he was despite the Alpha shift. Derek and Erica were both tossed to the side like ragdolls. Isaac and Boyd fared no better, and when Peter’s claws hooked into Scott’s ribs, it burned like wolfsbane and house fires. Still, Scott fought back. He bit and clawed, kicked and struck, even as he realized it was too late, that if this held Peter would kill him without needing to catch his breath. Peter grabbed him around the waist, hauling him up and holding him over the Nemeton.

“See them Scott? See how dimly the mating bond glows now? Every second I stay in this form, I draw power from them. Wolves mate for life, and that glow? That’s their life force. The weaker they get, the weaker you get. Do you get it now? Why you never had a chance?” Peter’s claws in his side twisted, and Scott howled with the pain of it. Allison, still struggling to stay conscious under the barrage of magic and pain, was trying to catch his eye, trying to comfort him even as Peter drained her.

“The spell isn’t complete, though,” Lydia said, voice steady on the other side of the clearing. Cora crouched protectively in front of her, growling at Peter as he turned to give her his attention.

“It’s as complete as it needs to be, to get me what I want,” he assured her.

“Unfinished magic, though,” Lydia mused. “Like Jennifer’s sacrifices. Like the _bardo_. Like my bite. Unfinished magic can have complications, can’t it Peter? And you’re not planning to finish it. A draining spell like that… it’s temporary. When it’s over, it’ll kill you.”

“Not if I kill Scott before the spell has completed. And if you hadn’t noticed, that is actually my plan.”

“Maybe we have a plan of our own.” Lydia shrugged as Cora crouched lower, backed right up into her shins. “Do you know what has more complications than unfinished magic?” She smiled, that serene, lost-girl look she got sometimes when she was hearing her own power in the distance. “Magic interrupted.”

She screamed.

The echo of Lydia’s power rolled through the clearing like a tsunami. Scott fell to the ground, human hands thudding against the dirt and wound in his side aching. He tried to look up, but the blanket of Lydia’s power laid too heavily over his body. He knelt there in the grass as she approached, walking easily over the ground. Her hand carded through his hair, a gentle reminder of her loyalty, before she spoke.

“Wolves don’t know much about magic, do they Peter? It’s in you, you’re _of it_ , but you can’t use it. It’s much more complex than you might imagine. Magic has a price, whether you know what you’re doing or not. Unfinished magic… it leaves scars. Weaknesses in the fabric of life. It makes a mark.”

She trailed around Scott’s side, hand gentle on the spot where his flesh was torn open. She pressed her fingers to it, softly, and grimaced.

“We have a scar, Peter. You and I do. You used my fae magic to bring yourself back to life, and you never paid the price. You _stole_ power from me. You stole it from Jennifer. You’ve stolen it from Stiles and Allison. Did you think it would never catch up to you?”

Strength flooded back into Scott’s limbs. He jumped up, shifting into beta form and stabbing a clawed finger into his thigh to jumpstart the healing process. He moved to block Peter from Lydia, to protect her, but she held a hand out to stop him.

“Derek, Erica, hold him.”

Within seconds his betas had Peter surrounded, but it didn’t seem to matter. Peter was on his knees in front of Lydia. She held him there on her own.

“What was it you said to me that day, Peter? When we were in the loft?”

Peter’s eyebrows drew down before his lips quirked into a sardonic smile. “I’m the spark that lit your fire, sweetheart.”

“Mmm, that you were. I think you’d have learned by now, though. Fire doesn’t suit you.” Lydia pursed her lips and looked to Scott, awaiting his judgment.

“Isaac?” he called, not looking away from Peter’s face. “Are they alive?”

“Yes, both of them. Stiles is still out cold, and Allison’s drifting -”

“Get them to the hospital. Now. Boyd, you go with him. Erica, meet Malia and Kira at Chris’s, let him and the Sheriff know where they are. I’ll be there before they wake up.”

“Alpha -” Erica hedged, still holding tightly to one of Peter’s arms.

“It’s okay,” he tried to give her a smile, even with the nausea churning in his gut at what he was about to do. “Cora and Derek will handle this. You should go. I want you to be with the Sheriff. He’ll need someone strong to keep him together.” She straightened up a bit at the compliment and transferred her hold on Peter’s arm to Cora. Together, she, Isaac, and Boyd moved soundlessly back into the tree line, holding Stiles and Allison’s bodies close. Scott’s feet itched to follow them, to hold his mates in his arms and carry them to safety, to lick their wounds and nurture their bond. He gritted his teeth as he turned back to the Hales, and Lydia.

“You might want to go -” he started, jerking his head toward the retreating betas.

“I’ll be with her soon,” she assured him. “When a banshee screams, someone dies. It’s not always a warning, or an alarm. Sometimes it’s a contract. I need to see it through.” She squared her shoulders. “Besides… it will be good, to see him dead.”

Peter laughed. His ice blues eyes twinkled with mirth as the near-hysterical sound spilled from his throat.

“You’re entrusting your revenge to the wrong wolf, _changeling_ ,” he snarled. “Scott couldn’t kill if his mates’ lives depended on it. We’ve already seen that. He’s incapable, incompetent, impotent -”

“He could kill,” Cora growled. “But he doesn’t have to.”

Her claws in his belly were quick, slicing easily through flesh and rending upward. Derek held him still, arms wrapped around his shoulders to keep him upright, face pained and eyes bright. Peter gurgled, shock painted all over his face.

“For _her?_ ” he got out, black blood trickling from his mouth.

“For her. For me. For Allison and Stiles, Derek, and Malia. For _Scott_. For everyone you killed, or hurt, or manipulated. But mostly -” Cora stopped, claws at his throat. “Mostly for Laura. She was my sister, and you killed her. _This_ is Hale retribution, Peter. I hope it fucking hurts.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

_Now_

“Yeah, thanks Pops, I’ll let ‘em know. Yeah, uh, the big day is tomorrow, so we should, barring any… unpleasantness, be ready for company on the 26th, as long as you don’t mind Scott being a little wolfy while you’re here. Yeah, we set up a tree and everything. I mean, it’s empty. We’re in college. My part time job pays less than minimum wage, I’m pretty sure. But it’s decorated at least. Tell Melissa to bring Scott’s heavy coat please? He left it there thinking he wouldn’t need it but apparently by January it’s going to be pretty cold. And leave some extra space in your suitcase. I got Malia something I want to send home with you. A book, Dad. I work at a bookstore? It’s a book I think she’d like. Yes, I think she likes - ugh, Dad, come on. Listen, Scott just pulled up okay? I’m gonna - yeah, I’ll call you, let you know how it - um. Went. I guess. Okay. Love you too. Bye.”

“You know,” Scott said, grinning from the recliner across from him, “You could get off the phone without lying to him about where I am. Or about who needs that heavy coat.”

Stiles flung his phone onto the end table and wrapped his hands around the steaming mug of hot chocolate Scott had brought him. They were both already in pajamas, bodies tired from the short days and the lazy schedule of post-finals December.

“Mmmm, chocolate?” Allison poked her head out of the guest room where she and Verona had been wrapping presents for an hour. Despite what Stiles had said, the tree was far from empty. He wanted to see the look on Dad’s face when he came in and saw the big pile of boxes underneath, like Christmas at home when they’d gotten together with Melissa and Scott, only this time Allison and Chris would be there too.

“How goes the wrapping?” Stiles asked, frowning slightly at his own wrapped boxes, shiny paper not exactly straight around the edges. Scott’s were definitely worse though, so he shrugged it off.

“Almost finished! And Verona brought Home Alone 2. It’s my favorite!” Allison grabbed the mugs of chocolate Scott had made for her and Verona and pushed one into their guest’s hand.

“This is delicious,” Verona said, cheersing her mug with Allison’s before taking another sip. “I brought that Rudolph movie too, the clay one?”

“Rankin and Bass?” Stiles asked quickly, too excited at the idea of puppy piling with his lovers and watching classic Christmas movies with the sharp promise of snow hanging in the air outside.

“Uh, I guess?” she said, “The one with the abominable snowman.”

Scott laughed at that, and Verona shot him a glare that would have chilled Stiles to the bone the first day he met her. Now her regular stops into the bookstore - once every two or three weeks to drop off Sean’s vitamin packs - were a bright spot in his day, even if she did still scare him a little.

A hard knock at the door interrupted their cozy scene, causing Allison and Scott to both stiffen immediately.

“Verona,” Allison said, voice too sharp in her attempt to hide her nerves. “Why don’t you and Stiles finish wrapping presents? I got his wrapped already. I think Scott and I may need to go out for a bit.”

“Bullshit,” Verona said, setting down her mug. “You think I don’t know when somebody’s scared? Who’s knocking at your door _chica_?”

“We don’t know,” Scott answered for her, rising to his feet. “I can’t - uh. Tell. No one called. Maybe it’s nobody? Someone looking for a phone or something. I’ll just check. You guys don’t worry about it, okay?”

Stiles’ heartbeat sped without his permission as he watched Scott walk to the door, forced casualness in every movement. He unlocked the deadbolt, then the regular lock, with sharp, pointed turns. Allison’s hand rested on one of the little cabinets set into the living room wall; the one where they stored her bow, and the mountain ash.

“Scott, please,” a voice called from outside. “Open the door, please?”

“Is that -” Allison squinted at the door.

“Kinsey?” Scott threw it open, revealing Kinsey and Sean standing on the porch in a pool of anemic light from their little porch lantern. Kinsey looked fine, though she was breathing hard. Sean, on the other hand, looked halfway to death. As Kinsey took a step forward, he collapsed, losing consciousness completely. Scott grabbed his other side, hoisting them between him and bringing him in from the cold.

There were black lines crawling down his hand.

“Oh god, get him inside.” Stiles moved on instinct, grabbing for the loose floorboard where they kept the jars of Wolfsbane. “Do you know what variety he got into? If it’s a native one I’m not sure that we’ll -”

“I bet I know,” Verona interrupted, cool as a cucumber. Scott and Kinsey hustled Sean into the living room, and Allison locked the door behind them. In seconds, Verona had her giant satchel out, digging through the bottom.

“I’m sorry, Verona, but I really think -” Scott started, before Verona flashed beta gold eyes at him.

Stiles’ throat constricted. He forced himself over to Scott, standing between him and the other wolf. She’d tear him to shreds, but maybe if he could distract her for long enough, Scott and Allison could find a way to incapacitate her before she hurt anyone.

“Stiles, no,” Scott demanding, pulling him back. Stiles resisted, fought against the pull, but the bond between them was so strong, so close now that he could almost feel Scott’s anguish layered on top of his own.

“Verona, we don’t want trouble,” Allison started, hands clenching and unclenching. For months she’d carried a knife with her everywhere she went, even at home. It was almost laughable that here, now, safe in their house with their friends a day before the Solstice, this was when a rogue had decided to strike.

“Valdez Valley Vitamins,” Verona said slowly, pulling a packet of bright blue wolfsbane from her bag. She lifted it high in the air, dropping the bag and shoving it to the side with one foot. “Pack Valdez has been caring for omegas in this region for years, helping them stay under the radar with this.” She tossed the wolfsbane to Scott, who grabbed it out of the air and brought it to his nose to sniff.

“It doesn’t have a smell,” he said, shocked. Stiles could think of a lot better reasons to be shocked than scentless wolfsbane, but then he’d just found out not one but _two_ of his new friends were secret werewolves, so maybe that wasn’t surprising.

“We grind it into a compound. All the omegas in the area take it to dull the effects of the moon, cover their scents, help them live… normal lives.” Verona shrugged. “Some of us take it too. I do. The hunters here, they were too well trained. Even the Argent couldn’t keep them off our backs, so we worked together. We developed - not a cure. But an antidote. A treatment. One that has to be given regularly.”

On the floor, Sean convulsed, body heaving around a bullet wound in his side.

“We have to take it out,” Scott said, deciding then and there that Verona could be trusted, for whatever value of the word that could be right at the moment.

“Here,” Allison tossed him a knife and a lighter she’d secreted out of another hiding space near the door. “Stiles, pull the petals off the stems please. If Verona’s right, we’ll want this as concentrated as we can get it. Wolfsbane bullets have varying potencies, and we don’t want to waste the plant.”

“Druid? Like your aunt?” Verona asked quietly. Allison stared at her for a moment, deciding, before answering back:

“Hunter. Retired. Decided to make a different lifestyle choice.”

“Being the Alpha mate will do that to you,” Verona nodded.

“I can’t believe all y’all knew about this and none of you decided to let me in on it,” Kinsey huffed, helping Scott clear Sean’s sweater from the wound.

“Trust me,” Stiles said, adrenaline coursing through his veins, heightening his senses, narrowing his focus. He tore the petals from the stems, gathering them in the palm of his hand and being careful not to crush them. If they wanted to let all of the essence turn to ash, it couldn’t be smeared on his hands. “Sometimes you think you want to know things, and you really, really do not want to know.”  

“Well, I’d like a little warning next time someone decides to shoot one of my friends,” Kinsey snarled, moving out of the way so that Scott could pry the bullet from the wound. Blood, copper sharp and crimson, spilled over his hand as he worked, making Stiles’ stomach heave. He swallowed hard, mouth filling with saliva over and over while he breathed in through his nose.

“Stiles, are you -?” Allison started, but he nodded her off.

“Go, help. I’ll be fine.”

Allison took his palmful of petals and deposited them on the white particle board coffee table they’d gotten off a curbside two months before. She set the lighter to them, eyes focused as the flames ate up the brilliant blue, giving back thick purple smoke and dark ash.

“Here,” she slid in next to Scott, ash in hand, and pressed it into Sean’s side. Within seconds he jerked awake, howling ferociously and clawing at Scott’s arms. Verona was on the floor in an instant, speaking soothingly to him and flashing her eyes.

“That’s it, there you go _cachorro_ ,” she whispered as Sean blinked into awareness, clinging to her hand.

“You okay man?” Scott asked, covered in Sean’s blood and stinking of smoke.

“Well,” Sean said shakily. “I have to say, dude, I’ve been better.”

 

An hour later, the six of them sat silently in a circle, a sad parody of their party a month before. Sean was markedly improved already, but then, that made sense.

He was a werewolf.

“I can’t fucking _believe_ you’re a werewolf, man,” Stiles said, words bursting from him like cannon fire.

“You’ve mentioned,” Sean nodded.

“I just. How is it that, of the three people we befriended here in Bellingham, _two_ of them are werewolves?!” He could feel his voice doing the high, shrieky thing. He couldn’t really do anything to stop it.

“Are you really that surprised?” Verona asked, voice sharp and irritated. “You think wolves wouldn’t know if a new Alpha moved into the territory? A True Alpha? You think none of us would have noticed that there’s a new Argent living in _le refuge_ , and she’s an Alpha Mate? Or, even more, that she isn’t the _only_ Alpha Mate? Stiles, the three of you have been watched - protected even, by the pack since you got here. We just needed you to trust us, so you’d let us in.”

“Why not just be honest with us?” Scott asked. Allison nodded, scratching soothingly at his back. “Why not just tell us you were here, let us work something out together?”

“I didn’t even meet you until last month, and I could still smell the pain all over you,” Sean said quietly. “I didn’t want in on the whole pack thing. Most of my pack was killed years ago, and wherever the Alpha spark went, it didn’t come to me, which I am grateful for. The Valdez pack has helped take care of me since I was a kid. I didn’t - I don’t want to be a part of some big, dangerous hero quest. I just want to work at my stupid job, get a degree in something useless, play games with my friends. I want to be normal.”

“So did we,” Allison said, trying to smile and failing.

“And we knew that,” Verona sighed. “We wanted to let you.”

“But obviously we can’t be,” Stiles cut in, tired of dancing around it, tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop. “There are hunters in Bellingham, and they’ve figured out a way around your super secret wolfsbane brew that keeps you guys from being obviously supes. So what do we do now?”

“You could go home,” Kinsey said abruptly. The entire circle shifted, looking at her with confused expressions. “The Solstice is tomorrow. Complete your bond thing, or whatever it was that your evil Ex Alpha interrupted. Get yourselves settled back in your skin. Go back to California where your pack is. You’ve -” she paused, took a deep breath, and started again. “The three of you. You’ve been through enough, I think. If you want to leave again, no one could blame you.”

“What about you?” Allison asked. “You got brought into this because of us. You didn’t even know werewolves existed until two weeks ago, and here you are bringing injured ones to our door. What will you do?”

“I’ve been fighting for other people’s freedoms since I was old enough to know what freedom meant,” Kinsey shrugged, a small smile twitching at her lips. “You think I’m going to let some assholes hunt my friends without having something to say about it?”

“I guess not,” Allison said, shaking her head fondly.

“What if we stayed?” Scott looked to Verona.

“It’s your choice. You can live here, have nothing to do with the pack, keep to yourself. We wouldn’t involve you in pack issues. If you needed help, supplies or something, I’m sure we could work out something mutually beneficial. We’re not the enemy, Scott.”

“No,” Scott agreed slowly. “There is an enemy though.”

Stiles could feel it, the urge to say _No_ , to yell and fight and refuse. This was supposed to be their safe space, their haven away from the hellmouth, and here it was again, dragging them back in.

But when he looked at the determination on Scott’s face, the grim certainty on Allison’s, he knew he couldn’t refuse. Maybe they weren’t the most whole bunch of freedom fighters in the world, but they were here, and there was a fight to be won.

They’d never let it stop them before.

“Fine,” he groaned, putting his head in his hands. Scott and Allison hugged him on each side, squeezing him in the middle. “Yeah, yeah, alright. So. _Le refuge des chasseurs_ is in business once more. When do we start?” 

“Soon,” Scott said, nodding to Verona like a promise. “There’s just one little thing we need to get taken care of first.”

* * *

 

_Then_

Allison’s skin glowed in the dim light of her room, shiny with the oil they’d spent the last hour rubbing all over one another’s bodies.

To be honest, he could really get used to this whole Alpha Mate Bond thing.

“Okay, now we need to shake this little satchel of herbs over each others’ heads five times,” Allison laughed, holding up a mesh bag of plants over Stiles’ head.

“We shake it?” he asked, tilting his head back until his hair brushed the bag, then shimmying slowly down until it was easier for her to reach. “C’mon Alli, shake it.”

“Oh god, you’re awful,” she said, covering her mouth but swinging her hips just the same as she dangled the little bag over the crown of his head and shook it. Five slow shakes of magical plant dust later, Stiles snatched the bag from her and pulled Allison in with an arm around her waist. He wasn’t an especially good dancer, but something about the afternoon made him want to anyway, want to shake and press and grind against a body, feel it moving with him and against him in a hot, fast rhythm.

“Shit,” he said, tongue feeling too big for his mouth. “I can feel it already.”

“Can you?” Allison laughed again, sounding drunk on the sensation. Stiles shook the little sachet, counting out the shakes with kisses against her lips. _One. Two. Three. Four. Five_. Soft, delicate things to match the slip she wore, satin smooth against her skin.

“We have to get dressed,” she said, mumbling against his mouth.

“Mmmm, why?” he laughed, kissing her again, and again, and again, drinking kisses from her like wine. A hot flush spread through him, and out of the corner of his eye Stiles almost felt like he could see the red glow Scott had told them about, the one that let him find them.

As if they were missing or something, not right by his side.

“Scott,” he said suddenly, brain waking back up from the haze of heat washing over him.

“Yes, Scott,” Allison agreed, pulling away with one last kiss. “Get dressed. And then we’re gonna find Scott. And then…”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded. “Then we’re gonna keep him.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

_Now_

“You can still say no,” Scott promised, even as he twisted the lock on the bedroom door. It wouldn’t stop a werewolf, or even a hunter, but it would give them ample warning if someone wanted in. Besides, the small sentry outside the cottage pretending to be hanging Christmas lights would be there if they needed help.

“We really can’t,” Stiles laughed, pulling Allison close and kissing her cheek with a loud smack. “I’ve felt like crap for the last six months. We’re not cancelling this thing again. Sorry, Alli, you’re stuck with us.”

“Sorry _Alli_?” Scott asked, affronted.

“Yeah, you were stuck with me from the beginning,” Stiles said, giving him a kiss too. Allison rolled her eyes and pulled off her top, skin itching to be free under the moon. Scott and Stiles both stared, slightly dumbfounded, as she stripped down to her skin,  fragrant with oil and herbs to keep them all safe and connected while the bond took.

“That’s… a really good idea,” Stiles nodded, quickly undressing himself as well. Suddenly they were all naked, standing in a little circle in their bedroom staring at one another. Allison couldn’t help it; she burst into a laugh.

“This is ridiculous,” she said, trying to breathe through the hysterical hiccups of laughter that were still rolling from her diaphragm.

“It kind of is,” Scott laughed too, moving forward to wrap her in a hug. Stiles joined them, twining his lean body with theirs easily and shaking with contained mirth.

“Hey guys,” Stiles said, roguish smile on his face, “Want to get magical-moonlit-werewolf-sex-married tonight?”

“I’m down,” Allison shrugged carelessly, joy and peace radiating through her, filling her body with easy arousal.

“Assume the position then, lady love,” Stiles pushed her gently toward the bed, a bed that smelled like them even to her human nose, a mixture of herself and Scott and Stiles and something that was them together that wasn’t any of them apart.

“Wait,” Scott grabbed her hand, pulling her back in. “One more kiss.”

“There’ll be time for lots of kisses, Scott.” She smiled. “That’s kind of the point of all this, isn’t it?”

He kissed her soundly anyway, lips and tongue moving in that magic way he had, making her weak in the knees. When he pulled away, he turned to Stiles and did the same thing, leaving a dazed look on both their faces.

“There,” he said. “One last kiss with my girlfriend, and my boyfriend. Next time I kiss you, we’ll be _mates_.”

Something in the room changed, the easy joviality sucked out of it by Scott’s pronouncement and replaced with a hot rush of need and lust that Allison had never felt before. She staggered backward, pulling Scott with her until the backs of her knees hit the bed.

“C’mon Alpha,” she goaded, “Take me. Stake your claim.”

“I already have,” Scott teased, tugging Stiles along with them. “We’re just making it official.”

“Tell me where to sign,” Stiles grinned shakily.

Scott’s eyes burned red as he dragged a hand down the front of Allison’s body, thumb rasping against a nipple, pulling her up by her nerve endings. He dragged her wrist to his mouth and sucking hard on the pulse point. She moaned without meaning to, a sudden, desperate sound as his other hand slid down, finding the wet folds of her cunt and pressing a finger inside.

“Stiles?” he said gently, fingers circling her clit, drawing the first hard flush of sex through her limbs.

“Yeah, Scotty?”

“Grab the lube.”

 

Scott lined himself up, holding Allison’s legs over his shoulders and watching her face carefully for any sign of discomfort.

“Remember, no matter what happens… once we start, we can’t disconnect. We have to be touching at all times, all three of us.”

“Got it boss,” Stiles grunted, working himself down on three of Allison’s fingers. It was beautiful, the sight of them working together to prep Stiles’ body for his cock, his knot. Scott’s mouth watered at the scent of their arousal in the room, of Allison’s sweet, lush cunt in front of him and the precome he already knew would be drooling from Stiles’ dick. Something primal pulled at him, worked at all his strings, unraveling his self-control until he was barely hanging on, keeping the wolf at bay.

“Tell me if something goes wrong,” he said, one last time.

“Scott,” Allison looked up from where her hand was busy inside of Stiles body - fuck, _so hot_ \- to stare him in the eye. “You aren’t going to hurt us. We want this. Both of us.”

“She’s right,” Stiles nodded, settling in on his knees and leaning over Allison’s body to kiss Scott’s hand wrapped around her calf. “We want you, Scott. Let’s do this.”

“Okay,” he nodded, taking a deep breath, letting himself be overcome by their scent, the taste of them on the air, the brilliant halo that surrounded them both. “Okay.”

Pressing into Allison’s body was like coming home. The shocking heat of her coursed through him, like blood close to the skin, making his skin flush and his palms sweat. He settled into an easy rhythm, fast thrusts in and slow drags out, watching as she worked agile fingers in and out of Stiles’ hole, stretching him with the ease of practice. With every push in of his cock, her breasts bounced temptingly, her abdomen clenched slightly, and small, breathy moans huffed out of her mouth. She rolled her hips up to meet him as much as she could, whispering encouragement to them both.

“That’s it, take another, there you go, want to be good and ready when it’s time,” she said, watching Stiles with bright eyes as she worked her pinky into his stretched hole. Stiles groaned and rutted against her, pressing his forehead against her leg so Scott could card a hand through his hair.

“So good,” he said soothingly. “You’re both - fuck - so good. So hot. _Perfect_.”

“Feels - hnnng, amazing, Scott, fuck me, _fuck me_ ,” Allison cried out as Stiles’ fingers found her cunt, slid slick and fast over her clit. He rubbed her hard and quick, and she clenched hard around Scott’s cock inside her, gasping for breath.

“Oh, I’m gonna - _I’m gonna_ -”

A wave of instinct welled up within Scott’s body. He grabbed Stiles’ hair, pushing his face down toward her sex, and Stiles went eagerly, lapping at her clit as Scott fucked into her with as much power as he could muster. All he could hear were her cries of pleasure, the soft sounds of Stiles licking and sucking at her clit, her fingers still buried deep in his body.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” she groaned, rolling her hips against his, working her body against him. “That feels - yeah - harder, Stiles, Scott - just - ah - _ah_!”

Each loud slap of skin, hips hitting her ass over and over, seemed to echo in the room and in his blood, ramping up the pleasure higher, faster, drawing them closer -

_Because I know we’re going to be together._

_There’s no such thing as fate._

_There’s no such thing as werewolves._

Scott’s orgasm crashed over him like a freight train, the unfamiliar bulk of the knot blooming hot under his skin, pushing into Allison’s body and prolonging the pleasure until all he could see was white. When Scott opened his eyes, Allison lay there spent and trembling, one hand buried in Stiles’ hair as she tried to lick the taste of herself from his mouth.

Stiles shifted onto his hands and knees, trying to better his purchase on the soft mattress. Scott caught hold of his hips, pulling them back against his own, grinding into Allison’s body and against Stiles’.

 

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, voice shocked and hot. He stared down into Allison’s eyes, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of Scott doing _this_ right _now_. “You aren’t. You are not.”

“You’re always telling me you want it this way,” Scott growled, voice Alpha deep. The bottom of Stiles’ stomach dropped out, his body tensing back for the roll of Scott’s hips, the hot pleasure of having Scott in control.

“Fuck yes,” Stiles groaned, arching his back and presenting his ass as well he could with Alli underneath him. She kissed him fiercely, keeping the fire between them burning while Scott waited for the knot to deflate enough to pull out. Scott teased at his hole with two slick fingers, rubbing in and out of him, avoiding his prostate and circling the sensitive rim, keeping him on edge. Stiles had never been so hard in his life. He could feel his heart beating in his dick, so when Allison wrapped her hand around him and stroked it, he was pretty sure death by orgasm was imminent.

Then, with a squelch that made them all shiver, Scott pulled his still-hard cock out of Allison and pressed it right up against Stiles’ ass.

“Tell me you want it,” he said, voice rough, demanding.

Stiles knew how to demand, too.

He arched back fast and hard, gritting his teeth through the burn as Scott’s cock entered him in one smooth slide.

“Fuck, _Stiles_ ,” Scott grunted, grabbing at his hips to still him. Stiles just shook his head.

“Come on Alpha,” he goaded. “Didn’t you say you owe me?”

Scott let his hips answer for him, pulling back and then thrusting forward powerfully enough to knock Stiles off his balance, sending him sprawling down onto Allison’s body.

“It’s alright,” she said, wrapping her arms around him, face still dazed and open. Her body was hot against his own, slick and sweaty, and every hard, grunting thrust of Scott’s cock into his ass made them slide against one another, rubbing her breasts against his chest. Honey-sweet kisses dripped from her mouth, pressing against his face and neck as Stiles moaned his pleasure while Scott fucked him from behind.

 

“Feels good?” Scott asked, breathless. He reached around, fumbling for Stiles’ cock only to find Allison’s hand already on it. He covered her hand with his own, guiding her strokes to match his own, in and out, hard and fast.

“Please,” Stiles babbled, body drawn up tight and hole clenching around him. “Please, fuck, make me come, please, come in me, want you, want this -”

Scott tightened his grip, pulling the pleasure of Stiles’ body with his hands and his cock. Stiles tightened up around him, moaning into Allison’s mouth as his dick spurted all over her stomach, marking her up -

_You still got me._

_I had you before._

_Yeah, and you still got me. So, life fulfilled._

Scott shuddered as the knot popped a second time, almost painful in its intensity. Stiles’ body was so hot and tight around him, he thought he might pass out as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over him. His knees felt weak, his arms shaking, but he had to finish it before the window passed. He ground his hips into Stiles, encouraging the tie to loosen until he could slide wet and spent out of Stiles’ body.

“Ew,” Stiles grunted, wrung out and spent himself.

“I know,” Scott said, “I’ll clean you up just as soon as we’re done. Both of you. But for now, you have to sit up for me, okay? Just for a minute.”

He pulled them both up carefully, making sure Allison and Stiles stayed connected as they got to their knees, joined around him.

“Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent, today you are given a choice,” he said, rehearsed words clumsy in his mouth. “With my knot and my bite, my alpha mates you both will be. You will hold a place of honor in my pack, and in my heart, until my last breath. Do you accept?”

“I do,” they said together.

“With the moon as our witness and our guide, let us be bonded.”

His teeth sank in, first to Stiles’ neck, then to Allison’s, matching rings of red in their skin. Blood burst copper into his mouth as he lapped at the wounds, cleaning them and closing them. Within seconds they were healed, leaving nothing but a pink ring and the faint imprint of teeth matching on their necks.

“Now it’s your turn,” he said, baring his throat for them both. They each took a side, completing the cycle as they bit down together.

The rush of the bond forming overwhelmed him. Tears sprang to his eyes as he struggled to keep hold of the wolf, to keep from howling at the moon and losing control of the shift. The three of them crumpled to the mattress together in a tangle, the buzz of magic still lingering on their skin but slowly dissipating from the air.

“Oh my god,” Allison said, voice full of wonder. “I can -”

“We can see it,” Stiles finished, hushed.

Scott looked down at himself with human eyes and saw it too: the beautiful, brilliant glow surrounded all three of them.

* * *

 

_Then_

“I have, um, something I need to talk to you about.” Scott licked his lips, feeling them chap under his tongue. “Something kind of important.”

Stiles started talking before Scott could even finish. “Is it about the fairy circles, because Lydia and I checked those out yesterday and -”

Allison interrupted him, shocked look on her face. “Wait, you took Lydia out into the preserve to look at fairy circles _by yourself_? The two of you went, alone? To look at supernatural things? Stiles, are you -?”

“What, we can’t go look at _completely normal_ circles of stones set out by freaking annoying freshmen trying to catch fairies? Is that too dangerous for Team Human now? Well, Team Mostly Human, I guess…? I don’t know, does Lydia still count as human if she’s a banshee?” Stiles looked thoughtful, brow furrowed adorably, and Allison quirked her lips in response.

“I’m not positive? I know she has like, fae ancestry for sure but I’m pretty sure she’s still mostly human -”

“Guys,” Scott sighed, head full up of the scent of both of them, competing for his attention. “This is important.”

“Oh, right, yeah, sorry Scotty,” Stiles nodded, bouncing a little in his spot on the bed. Allison sprawled over him, knees across his lap and head propped up on her pillows. “What’s up babe?”

“Uh.”

Scott ran his hands through his hair and sat in a huff in the chair that Allison kept next to the bed. It was covered in laundry (when wasn’t it?) but the scent of her clothes was soothing to his frayed nerves. He kept thinking back to the talk he’d had with Derek, the way Derek’s eyes had softened and crinkled while he explained the soft glow, the appealing scent markers, the way Scott wanted to wrap them both up in himself and never let them go. How he’d looked proud when he asked Scott who he’d choose, and Scott said he wouldn’t. He couldn’t, really. Not if there was even a possibility that they could all be together, the way he wanted.

Scott took a deep breath.

“Listen, guys. There’s something I need to tell you, something that… well. It’s going to change things. A lot of things. Hopefully… hopefully for the better, right?”

“Ooooookay,” Stiles nodded, face squinty and questioning. It was absurd how sweet he found that.

“What is it, Scott?” Allison tried again, sitting up and pulling her feet out of Stiles’ lap so she could face him. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Stiles nodded, “Yeah, man. You can tell us.”

“I’m glad,”Scott grinned. He couldn’t help himself; Stiles saying “us” sounded like the most natural thing in the world.  He watched as they shifted closer on the bed, both attuned so closely to his face, concern and love shining through all of their features. “No matter what happens from here on out, I just want you both to know I love you. I love you both, so, so much.”

“We love you too, Scotty.” Stiles reached out to squeeze Allison’s knee, and she smiled back at him, a small, fond thing she reserved just for them.

“Of course, Scott. We love you. Please tell us what’s wrong?”

Scott let his eyes bleed red, just for a moment, just long enough to see the bright, hot glow of Alpha red building around them, between them.

“Don’t worry guys. For once, everything is right.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> ****Spoilers****  
> Peter Hale, the antagonist of this piece, is killed after trying to kill both Allison and Stiles.
> 
> Your feedback is valuable to all fic writers, and I'm no exception. If you enjoyed this story, please let me know.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com).


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